Chiaroscuro
by XtinethePirate
Summary: The light always burns brightest before shadows consume it. Every candle must someday burn out. Even the Jedi can turn to the Darkness. ObiWan's and Anakin's relationship before and during the events of Revenge of the Sith. Slash later! Chap.11 up!
1. Prologue

Yes, Yes, I finally worked up the courage to write a Star Wars fic of my very own! You have no idea what a rush it was to write those famous 10 words: "a long time ago..."

This is an Anakin/Obi-Wan, as well as references to Anakin/Padme. I know the latter won't bother many people but if the former does, please do NOT read this fic, because it will be in there. SLASHY later on!

I don't own Star Wars. I don't own Anakin or Obi-Wan, although I like to play with my action figures and pretend that I do. Star Wars Lego kicks ass, has anyone noticed that? Please stay on the Light Side of the Force, and don't flame me, though constructive criticism is always helpful, when put nicely.

Enough ranting...

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PROLOGUE

**A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away….**

_A candle flame flickering in the night; a single star that shines bravely against the crushing, curving arms of blackness. Trembling, shivering, struggling to maintain the final illusion that is _life _against the inevitability of oblivion. It is in that light, that ephemeral moment when the flame gutters and flares, strong for an instant, that this story comes to be. __That brief, brilliant glimmer before the candle winks out. _

_This is the final twilight; the setting sun's blooded rays on a dying era. _

_This is the beginning of the end._

_Light always shines the strongest before darkness closes in. The most transient of moments, before the sun slips behind the horizon. In the immeasurable struggle between light and dark, it is the darkness that wins. Every victory of the dawn only marks a deeper victory for the evening. _

_Stars only shine in the depth of the void; days are only measured by the surrounding nights. _

_Light is illusory. Without darkness, there would be no light. Darkness is eternal, inevitable, and inescapable…_

_…While even stars can die._

_---------_

Prologues are silly little things... the real story starts in chapter 1! Please read and don't forget toreview!

(update: just read the RotS novel. I wanna sue Matt Stover for taking my light/shadow conceit. What do you think? Will it work? LoL, I tease...)


	2. One Jedi, Two Bodies

I took whatever technical terms that I could find in Star Wars to make this more authentic, the rest is pure Xtine. I love Obi-Wan. He kicks ass. He should have sung occasionally, not because it fits his personna, but because Ewan McGregor has such a gorgeous voice...melts into seat

_**Chiaroscuro **_

_**Chapter 1: One Jedi, Two Bodies. **_

"…_the three beats of war, peace, and revolution continue on forever." _

_Mariemaea Khushrenada, Gundam Wing _

There is no physical sign of battle above the cool and sleeping planet of Veenat III; there is no need for it as yet. The Separatist battleship that hovers in silent, omnipotent menace says more than enough. Actions, in this case, speak far louder than words.

Actions which rose like a shout to slam against the distant, Republic-oriented city planet of Coruscant - a shouted plea for help that echoed through the traffic-filled streets, slanting across windowed skyscrapers, and grounding itself in the Council Chambers of the Jedi Temple. Whispered in debate, sliding through conversations and decisions.

Only to be sent back out, across the galaxies….

_"Remind me again why we're out here, Master? I thought we had already pacified all the planets on the Outer Rim…"_

Obi-Wan sighed, glancing out the transparent hood of his starfighter to see the figure of his Padawan - _former _Padawan, he corrected himself hurriedly - Anakin Skywalker. As usual, the boy - _man, _he was hardly a child anymore at 22, after all - was trying to hide his frustration under the thin veneer of what the young Jedi jokingly called his "_Kenobi face_"; that is to say, pretending to be everything his master constantly lectured him about becoming.

Only this time, the master was as frustrated as his apprentice.

Not that he'd ever admit _that._

"The Council wouldn't have sent us here if it weren't for some legitimate reason, Anakin," he replied with the vague exasperation of one who has said the same thing many times over, and knows better than to hope it will be heeded. "Besides, you're being ridiculous. _We_ certainly haven't been to all the planets on the Outer Rim; I don't think the combined members of the entire _Order_ have visited _all_ these planets."

_"Sure feels that way to me," _was the rebellious muttered reply.

"I seem to remember your telling me that you wanted to be the first to visit every star system in the galaxy?"

"_I meant all the _interesting_ ones, Master. This place does not qualify."_

Obi-Wan sighed, and sighed deeply. Ordinarily he would have reprimanded Anakin sharply on their duties as Jedi to the galaxy's star systems – even those on the Outer Rim. He would have reminded him that a planet's relative _interest _was of no consequence to the Jedi Council if their help had been requested, and that it _certainly_ wasn't something that the ones sent to give aid to those in need should consider. Ordinarily, he would have felt justified in giving that lecture to his headstrong junior partner. Today, he just couldn't seem to summon the energy for it. For once he agreed fully with his apprentice. It had been far too long since either one of them had been home….

Closing his mind to that selfish thought, Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, draining his mind of any emotion or conscious contemplation, focusing all of his being instead on the Force; reaching out to it, letting it wash over him, through him, following the threads….

_"Master?" _Anakin sounded concerned.

That in itself was unusual enough to break Obi-Wan's concentration. His eyes snapped open of their own accord, the deeper connection to the Force rupturing like an overloaded power coupling. The slightest hint of a frown marred his otherwise serene features. Yes, there had been a flicker in the Force, a cry of distress, a plea…

Of course; that was what they were there for. A whisper in the Force had reached the ears of the Council on Coruscant, a fuzzy, interrupted hologram message. An entreaty for help, for release from the Separatist forces who were attacking the being's planet. Obi-Wan had almost felt the echo, the presence of the captive he was supposed to rescue.

But whether it had come from the planet or the ship was impossible to say. Too much darkness was blurring the clarity of his perceptions, like mud stirred up in the Temple pool, where he used to meditate….

_"Master. Obi-Wan!"_

_That _was a surprise, Anakin never called him by his first name, though he had more than earned the right many times over. However….

"Oh dear."

They had been spotted. What had been a peaceful horizon line, an unobstructed view of the planet, was now a shifting, seething sea of incoming tri-fighters.

_"And you're always nagging _me _about not being conscious of my surroundings." _

"Focus on the present moment young one," Obi-Wan warned, but couldn't help adding "And I do _not_ nag."

_"Whatever you say, Master." _

There was a slightly placating tone to that otherwise respectful reply that made Obi-Wan smother a smile (as well as a growled retort), before slamming the thrusters of his starfighter to twist into a steep dive. Beside him, Anakin did the same, without exchanging a word, without consultation, without a second of hesitation. Thirteen years together had trained them to feel each other's movements, to become one Jedi in two bodies.

The perfect Master-Padawan team.

'Perfect_ team_,' Obi-Wan stressed in his mind ruefully, sliding the fighter nimbly through the sudden pulsing web of antifighter flak that exploded around him. Somehow, it was hard for him to accept that the young boy he and Qui-Gon had found on Tatooine was no longer nine….

Whistles and beeps from the astrodroid mounted on his wing alerted Obi-Wan to the three fighters that had moved into pursuit of his starfighter. Anakin was having no trouble outpacing their pursuers; his Delta-7 air speeder was eons more advanced than Obi-Wan's older Delta-6.

The thought made the Jedi Master scowl. _An older craft for an older Jedi_…but he was not _quite_ so outdated as his starfighter. He was, after all, still more than a match for the brainless circuitry of battle droids.

At least, he hoped so.

Twisting sharply right, Obi-Wan wrenched the craft in a tight circle, cutting behind the fist droid ship on his tail to blast across the nose of the second, all cannons firing as he did so.

The droid fighter erupted into a ball of flame, consuming the other fighter directly behind it, and sending Obi-Wan's ship careening out of control. He fought angrily with the stabilizers, yanking the ship out of the trajectory of the particle beams of the first fighter behind him.

"Arfour!" he yelled angrily over the comlink to the blasted astromech. "Need I remind you that _stability _is _your_ job?"

There was only a whistled response that, to the Jedi Master, sounded oddly insubordinate. It was only to be expected, R4-P17 had had no other droid company for the past six months other than Anakin's eccentrically anthropomorphic droid.

Damn. In the heat of the conflict, he had lost sight of Anakin. Who knew what trouble the younger Jedi would get up to without his Master's watchful eye to supervise him? Reaching out with the Force, he tried to locate the other Jedi Knight.

He met a veritable storm of wild exultation, brilliant and searing in his mind's eye.

Of course _he_ would be enjoying himself, Anakin _loved_ to fly.

Diving through another stream of enemy fire, he screamed by a blast from the thermo plasma cannons of the larger fighters that were entering the scene. The shockwave spun him aside, throwing him roughly forward against the restraining harness, then back with equal force against his seat.

He _hated_ flying. _Hated it._

_"Don't be such an old geezer, Master,"_ said Anakin cheerfully over the comlink.

"I'm sorry; did I say that out loud?"

_"No, but you don't need to. You're always thinking one of three things, Master: 'Focus on the moment', 'Your weapon is your _life,_ Anakin_'_, and 'Sweet moons of Alderaan, but I _despise_ flying!'"_

Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment to laugh, relaxing even as the battle around them intensified. It was always like this with Anakin. One moment, the world was careening out of control, but then, suddenly, came a sense of perfect harmony, of balance with the Force, with the universe.

No wonder they called him the 'Chosen One.'

"Anakin, this is serious. We are supposed to be rescuing a member of the Veenatian government. I can't determine whether he or she is on the planet or on that battle cruiser. One of us needs to get down to the planet and investigate, while the other one tackles…_that_."

_That _was a massive star ship, moving slowly and sedately towards the battle, with all the patience of a predator who knows that it has no _need_ to hurry; that it's only a matter of time before its prey is languishing in its jaws.

_"Let me guess which one you want." _Anakin teased.

Obi-Wan hid a grin. "I got the tough job _last_ time, remember?"

_"My recollections differ somewhat on that point, Master."_

"Well, if you think it's too much for you to handle…?" He left the question hanging, knowing full well that Anakin could never resist a challenge.

Together, their fighters moved in perfectly in tandem, mirror images of each other as they cut across the paths of enemy droid fighters, letting the Force guide them through the deadly maze and letting the astromechs lock on and eliminate targets. Weaving in and out of each other's paths, their fighters came so close together that a drop of rain wouldn't have made it between the opposing sheets of durasteel; it was a dance, executed against the chiaroscuro backdrop of bottomless space and brilliant laser blasts, beautifully orchestrated without a single iota of forethought, of planning.

Planning was something the two Jedi rarely needed to do anymore, they had fought so long together side by side that they thought in tandem, never needing to speak. Not _all_ the changes the Clone Wars had wrought in them were bad.

_"As much fun as this is, Master, I should probably get my end of the job done…."_

Anticipation of each other's movements, for example.

"Anakin! Don't even _think _about -"

Too late. The younger Jedi had already whirled his fighter into an impossible spiral, peeling out of their perfectly coordinated routine, and shooting directly towards the lumbering battle cruiser to speed alongside the massive, machinery-pitted surface. Every droid ship in the vicinity, along with the cruiser's colossal gunports, instantly tracked his flight course. Obi-Wan knew the programmed algorithms in the droids main circuit boards were already calculating the arc of Anakin's flight path - and the best place at which to terminate it.

Lines of explosions followed the path of Anakin's starfighter, allowing Obi-Wan to trace his friend's trajectory even while dodging the flares and detonations that dogged his own path.

He knew the younger man too well, knew what he was planning on doing, even as he fervently hoped that he was wrong.

"Anakin, _don't_ be reckless…."

Too late.

His former Padawan rocketed up above the immense surface of the Separatist cruiser, arched in a deceptively slow, graceful manoeuvre, and dove straight for the durasteel surface.

Obi-Wan felt his heart jump into his throat watching that dive, moving at impossible speeds towards being nothing more than a charred patch on the silvery surface of a Separatist ship.

"Pull up, Anakin, pull up," he whispered.

The ship continued to dive.

R4 beeped and glanked excitedly, Obi-Wan slammed the reverse thrusters of his own fighter, firing on another set of attack ships. They exploded behind him; he was already pushing his ship as fast as it could go, towards the massive cruiser, feeling like a gnat facing down a wild bantha.

_"Anakin…." _There was something gathering in the Force, something…

There!

The small fighter pulled out of the suicide dive, twisting in a victory roll as it climbed, leaving the droid ships that had pursued him to crash and burn against the colossal hull.

…something _dark_….

Anakin twisted his small fighter to twine in and out of the massive protrusions from the hull, turning sideways to rocket through a small opening, and flow upwards, away….

A crack from one of the mighty laser cannons.

Obi-Wan threw his ship forward, because Anakin hadn't seen the blast, _wouldn't_ see the blast, concentrating as he was on running the veritable obstacle course of tri-fighters above him.

"Faster, _move faster._" He flew swiftly downwards to intercept the missile.

The beam connected. His head slammed against the side of the cockpit. Blackness erupted in font of his eyes, the controls jerked roughly out of his hands.

"Arfour…" he gasped, knowing that there was nothing the droid would be able to do in time. An explosion rocked the tiny craft once again; smoke pouring from one engine, twisting the fighter away from the battle, to be snared by Veenat-III's gravity field. Another blast, from a pursuing fighter, and his head smacked the canopy again. Dizzy, he tried to reach out to his friend and apprentice.

He felt the sudden bust of pain in the Force, despair, disbelief, the unimaginable hurt mixed with guilt.

_Anakin._

It quested towards him, sensing, hoping.

_Do your duty, Anakin. Rescue…on the ship…the Council…._

The ship plunged downwards, through the thick cloud layer, mist wrapping around the canopy like a funeral shroud.

Then there was no longer any conscious thought.

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Dramatic music What will happen next? Well, I promised a longer fic, so obviously the guy can't die... oh. Was that a plot spoiler! Next chapter will be up as soon as I finish writing it, although lots of reviews generally help to speed that process along.

I NEED HELP! (er... didn't mean it _quite_ like that) You'll notice that the beginning of every chapter (well, the one I've written so far) has a quotation. PLease send me your favourite meaningful quotes - sarcastic quips and lines, while funny, aren't really what I"m gonig for. - so I can use them! I'll be forever greatful!

waves hand through air in Jedi mind technique you will leave a nice review for Xtine.


	3. ObiWan Kenobi

Well, I finally finished chapter 2! It took a lot less time than I thought, but there was supposed to be much, much more. Huh, that'll have to be deferred to a later chapter; I know how über-long instalments can grate on people's nerves sometimes.  
Ok, 112 hits to this story, and only two reviews? Come on people! Of course, no reviewing is better than flaming reviews. Continue, if that's the case.

Other than that, let the Force guide you to that little blue button at the bottom of the frame. Press the button….

Disclaimer: Obi-torturing and Ani _lurv_ is my specialty. I think if Mister Lucas found out about it, he'd have some associates come to 'deal' with me, and I'd never be heard from again (except maybe as a newspaper headline…)

_**Chapter 2: Obi-Wan Kenobi**_

"_People have hope  
__Because they cannot see Death standing behind them."  
__Tite Kubo, Bleach vol. 2_

Sometimes he finds it hard to believe that he's a Jedi Knight.

As a youngling in the Jedi Temple, studying under the watchful eye of revered Masters such as Mace Windu, Qui-Gon Jinn and Yoda, he had thought that the venerable Jedi Masters knew _everything_. To a boy too young even to be a Padawan, they were almost God-like figures, strong with the Force, skilled with a lightsaber, commanding in presence and deed.

From the very beginning, he knew he would be Master Qui-Gon's apprentice. He desired that honour more than anything else in his life – more even, than his thirst for knowledge and understanding, more than his quest to be a Jedi Master.

More than anything, he wanted to be the Padawan to that great Jedi, and he had pursued that goal with the single-minded devotion that would later become the hallmark of his abilities as a Knight. When Obi-Wan Kenobi set his mind to something, it was only a matter of time before he achieved it, by some way or another. Younglings that are ready to become Padawan learners are not supposed to have a preference as to whom they wish to study under; they are certainly forbidden to compete in any overt manner to win attention.

Obi-Wan didn't have to. Though he wasn't the top of his class in lightsaber training, nor was he as competent as some in feeling the connection and nuance of the living Force, he still felt sure, in his heart, that he was destined to be apprenticed to the great Master. It wasn't arrogance; it was… a calling, an unshakable feeling.

He thought that Master Qui-Gon knew everything.

Experience had taught him differently. Qui-Gon had been as different from his very young apprentice as was possible – and in a galaxy filled to the stars with diversity, that was saying quite a lot. He had little to no regard for the rules, to which Obi-Wan strictly adhered, was cavalier about his instructions from the Council, preferring to follow his own instincts wherever possible, and had more than once clashed with his hot-headed young Padawan on the proper manner to carry out the missions to which they were set.

Obi-Wan had adored him. The feeling that had led him to that particular Jedi had not let him down, even if his Master had not truly been omniscient.

Sometimes he wonders what Anakin felt about him, as Padawan to Master; after all, he had been thrown in with a newly-ordained Jedi Knight, one without the vaunted reputation of many others in the Order

It is another defining characteristic of Obi-Wan Kenobi that he would be honestly surprised to hear that his praises are sung as clearly as those for Master Windu and Master Yoda. His reputation precedes him – and he is completely unaware of it.

As a Jedi Knight, he is serene, unflappable. He learned patience well from Master Jinn, though it is a skill he seems unable to impart to his own apprentice. He is a devastating sword-fighter, unparalleled in his preferred form of lightsaber combat, but one who avoids fighting at all costs. He is a brilliant pilot - not enough to match Anakin Skywalker, but no one in the Order is – but despises flying. A respected General in the Clone Wars who much prefers the peace and quiet of the Temple. A negotiator who could put a room full of Senators and diplomats to shame with his cool reasoning and mastery of words, he is deeply mistrustful of politics of all kinds and its adherents.

_Master Conundrum_, some of his friends from the temple refer to him affectionately behind his back.

His words are heeded by Padawans, Knights, and Masters alike.

Inside, he still feels he hasn't even approached the expectations of his former Master. Inside, he still feels like a green Youngling and wonders idly – rare though his idle moments are – whether or not another Master should have taken on the training of his most exceptional pupil.

For his deepest, most overriding concern is not the resolution of the Wars, as he knows it should be, nor is it the fate of the Republic which he serves with single-minded devotion. It is the fear that someday, somehow, he will fail the man who has become more than an apprentice, but a dear friend.

He worries that he will fail Anakin. He fears that he already has.

-----

Harsh light: orange, red, and searing at his closed eyes, brought Obi-Wan Kenobi back to consciousness. He groaned reflexively, struggling weakly to untangle one arm from the crash webbing that ensnared him, pressing his palm to the rancor-sized bump over his temple.

There was a slow, whistling murmur from behind him, indicating that, despite all the odds, R4-P17 had also survived the crash. For once, Obi-Wan didn't envy the droid's constant state of alertness – he was perfectly content to have been unconscious for their rather rough landing on this inhospitable planet.

"Just once I would like to crash-land on a place where showers are an available amenity," he muttered to the droid, who hooted a response. It seemed that he and Anakin always ended up in scorching deserts, frozen icy wastelands, or toxic jungles and swamps. Of all the pleasant systems in the galaxy to take a family vacation or a holiday, he and his Padawan always managed to find the sole uncongenial planet, moon, or asteroid field. It was a talent, it really was.

With another faint groan, Obi-Wan undid the crash webbing that had probably saved his life, only to tumble roughly to the floor - well, _roof – _of the damaged star fighter.What he had taken for flat land in front of him was really the steep slope of a sand dune. Now that gravity had forcefully reasserted itself, the battered Jedi Master extracted himself gingerly from the shattered remnants of the Delta-6. He winced at the damage – the space fighter looked almost as bad as he felt.

One of the wings hung by only a few connector cables, the metal was scoured deeply at one end, and long scratched extended the length of the fuselage. Shading his eyes, Obi-Wan noted the similar scrapes along a rocky cliff-face not too far behind where the ship had come to its final resting-place. On the other side was where the blast had struck the small fighter, the metal was blackened and twisted, the wing melting almost seamlessly against the hull itself. Only the cockpit and R4's seat had survived the descent, and even the transparisteel canopy was showing some hairline fractures. It was no longer even remotely possible to pilot the hunk of junk, even as a landspeeder.

Anakin would kill him if he saw this….

Obi-Wan felt the beginnings of frustration well within him and quelled the emotion with difficulty. It wouldn't help his situation any, and it would cloud his perceptions in the Force, which was about the only thing he had left to rely on. He stared blankly at the ruined spacecraft for a few moments in silence, remembering with a vaguely ominous sensation the mental comparisons he had been drawing between himself and the more outdated star fighter. He hoped that the Force wasn't trying to tell him something with this; if sign this was, it was indecently flagrant - not to mention rather morbid.

Obi-Wan shook his head in despair. _This _was why he _loathed_ flying. These accidents _never_ happened to Anakin… not that he regretted his decision to intercept the beam cannon. He didn't. It was just that it would be nice if, for once, Anakin was the one who was forced to crash-land on a barren wasteland, and _he_ got to be the one to mount a rescue. It didn't do much for their relationship to have to be consistently rescued by his junior partner.

"Stay with the ship, Arfour," he called out to the astromech, which was occupied with extracting itself from the tangled mess of durasteel and wires. "I'm going to see if I can find some kind of civilization." He peered into the remnants of the cockpit, scowled in disgust to find that his supply pack had burned up with the wing, and double-checked to see that his lightsaber was still hanging from his belt.

So. He had his weapon, but no food or water, and only a pathetic excuse for shelter.

_'Civilization - or whatever version of it exists on this planet - had better be within walking distance,' _he mused, fingering the handle of the lightsaber thoughtfully._ 'I'd take a cadre of Hutts if it meant supplies.' _He tugged the silvery cylinder from his belt, activating the sky-blue beam thoughtfully. _'Although I may have to behave in a very un­-Jedi fashion to obtain them….' _

Returning the hilt to his utility belt, Obi-Wan trudged up the steep sand embankment, felt in the Force for some inspiration as to which direction he should follow, and began to walk.

Unlike Tatooine – the only comparable planet that Obi-Wan had ever had the misfortune to visit, thank the Force – which had two suns to slowly leech the life from the barren desert world, Veenat-III only had one star to its system. It more than made up for the lack of numbers by exerting extra effort. Obi-Wan instantly felt the crushing wave of heat, like stepping into a laser-blast, as soon as he reached the crest of the ridge. The traditional robes of a Jedi Master, designed to adapt for temperature, were already stifling him. Still, they would help to keep the sun off… wiping away the sweat that beaded on his forehead and prickled unpleasantly in his eyes, Obi-Wan tugged the hood of his robe up, shading his face from the intense light. It caused some measure of relief, but not much – the reflected glare off of the brilliant white sands was just as dazzling. His eyes teared up if he tried to stare at the ground for too long; instead, he found himself contemplating the pale, washed-out lavender of the sky.

Anakin was up there somewhere.

Obi-Wan hoped that his former Padawan had managed to hear his last, desperate message thorough the Force, and was continuing on with their mission. The sooner that was finished, the sooner the younger man could come and rescue him from this hellish place. It was just so… uncivilized. That was the word he wanted. Although it wasn't his home planet, he had lived on Coruscant his entire life. The other Jedi in the Temple were nostalgic for forested moons and oceanic vistas… to Obi-Wan, the word _home _would always conjure to mind the sweeping cityscapes of the Republic's capital. The towers that rose to touch the stars, glimmering in the sunlight, the majesty and grandeur of the Jedi Temple – the accomplishments that exemplified the heights that sentient beings could achieve.

Anakin, of course, always preferred exploring the depths of Coruscant, a place no _sane_ person ever ventured, Jedi or not.

Of course, Anakin loved to fly, be it star fighters or in pod races, so his sanity was something that was very much in doubt.

The thought made the Jedi Master smile fondly. Anakin would tease him mercilessly, of course, when he finally got around to picking up the marooned Jedi, but it would be worth it, just to get out of this forsaken pit. Obi-Wan tugged at his robes in irritation, feeling sand slipping uncomfortably through crevices in the cloth, working its way into his skin, into…awkward places.

Although Qui-Gon would call him soft – and had done, on many an occasion – to Obi-Wan Kenobi, the defining point of civilization was hot-water showers. It most emphatically was _not_ the hyperdrive, as his apprentice vehemently insisted….

There was a flicker on the horizon that immediately caught Obi-Wan's attention, peering through the harsh, unforgiving light with his ultramarine eyes. Was it movement, or a mirage…?

_Oh Sith…_

Droids. Marching along the top of the dunes with all the ease in the world, although the ubiquitous sand should have ground into their joints to halt them in their paths. No, they were heading straight for him….

With a wordless snarl, Obi-Wan slid quickly down the side of the sand dune, throwing off his dark outer robe to give himself better camouflage. The sand-coloured under-tunic blended more closely with his surroundings, and was already so dampened with sweat that it was picking up swathes of the minute, irritating grains. Hopefully, the droids would pass without noticing him; he wasn't overly concerned with having to dispatch a few droids, but he would prefer not to do anything that could cause an interterrestrial incident. Decimating some shah or terra-lord's personal bodyguard would certainly qualify. Perhaps he could slip away unnoticed….

Too late. The droid in the lead swivelled his head around, tracing the scar on the dune caused by Obi-Wan's rapid descent. It raised one hand, bringing it sharply downwards in the Jedi's direction.

Red blasterfire immediately filled the air. Obi-Wan leapt from his crouched position, whirling his activated lightsaber in a halo of blue light that seemed to encircle his entire body. Blue that was as brilliant and concentrated as the colour of the Jedi Master's eyes.

A ripple in the Force – more droids had appeared, lining the top of the dune he had so recently abandoned. Mentally, Obi-Wan cursed himself for twelve kinds of an idiot. He had given up the high ground to avoid confrontation, and as a result, he had lost any offensive capabilities in the skirmish. The sand was too fine for him to scramble swiftly up the ridge – not while keeping up the lightsaber work, at least. He would be slaughtered if he even tried.

What had Qui-Gon tried to pound into his brain, over and over again? The eighth Rule of Engagement – well, he thought it was the eighth, he had never managed to keep them straight – _'Exercise caution, even in trivial matters.' _He hadn't even considered the possibility that he might end up fighting for his life.

As a consequence, Obi-Wan knew he might end up paying with it.

The droids were moving slowly down the hills now, legs splayed awkwardly to brace themselves against the steep descent. Obi-Wan took advantage of that, spinning the beam of iridescent turquoise left, then right, deflecting back the crimson bolts at their knee-joints, using the Force to guide his every movement. He didn't think, he _acted._ He didn't act, he _became._

Droid after droid fell against this unsuspected defiance, but still they came.

He was trapped.

'_Anakin… if you were waiting for the perfect moment to pull my sorry self out of the guntaar nest, _this_ would be it,' _he thought grimly, the faintest trace of wry humour quirking his lips. No, he was glad the boy wasn't here. Anakin deserved a better death than this one.

Funny. He'd always expected to die alongside his apprentice, to have Anakin there to ease his passage into rejoining with the Force.

Purely selfish, of course.

Still, the thought of his friend made him flick his gaze upward for the briefest of instants, and gave him a glimmer of an idea. The droids weren't a problem, no; the problem was being caught like a hawk-bat in a hole.

Summoning the Force to him, Obi-Wan _jumped_, twisting his body into a flip that carried him over the heads of the slow-reacting droids, landing behind them, to drop into a low crouch, sweeping the glowing blade in front of him with satisfied finality.

Cut in half, the sparking pieces of the battle droids collapses into little heaps of scrap metal. Obi-Wan kicked a blaster disdainfully out of his way, turning his attention to the other row of the mechanical eyesores.

_One, two, three! Four!_ Bolts were deflected out of the air faster than thought. Indeed, had he for one second _thought_ about the motions, he would have been dead. He didn't aim for the bolts; he went instead for where they _would be_ by the time they arrived within his range.

As the lined-up droids fell, one by one, Obi-Wan began to smile thinly, feeling an elusive stirring of hope in his heart. Perhaps it wasn't his time to die today, after all.

_Never trust to hope._ It wasn't a Jedi maxim, nor was it a Rule of Engagement, but it was something that should have been drilled into him at an early age with equal rigor.

_Never trust to hope_. It was too ephemeral to build any confidence on it. To do so was to invite disaster.

He was barely in time to deflect the last blaster bolt, before whirling in a tight circle and bringing his lightsaber up horizontally above his head in a defensive manoeuvre. The crimson blade that slammed down upon it a fraction later crackled with the power of the Dark Side.

The same shadow of darkness that was echoed perfectly in Count Dooku's superior smile.

* * *

This chapter was originally supposed to go through to the end of their little encounter, but then it wouldn't be updated for a little while longer. Of course, I have nothing on Chapter 3 yet… sorry! I'll do my best to keep up with this story!

Xtine


	4. Anakin Skywalker

**Blah blah blah, this chapter is driving me MAD! Love Anakin though I do, I want to get back to the Obi-Wan of Sexiness. Mrrrow! Hope the quality of this chapter didn't suffer too much as a result of that….**

**Disclaimer: You all know the drill by now, I'm sure! Don't own a thing, except for the plot!**

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**Chapter 3: Anakin Skywalker**

"_Do not judge the Gods… they have painful secrets."  
__Jean-Paul Sartre_

His worst fear is, and always has been, the fear of being left alone. It is in the darkness that this apprehension returns to him, forcing him to turn and face it, as a young boy will stand and yell loudly at the source of his terrors, if only to prove that he's brave. Inside, the fear still remains, still lingers, waiting for its moment to return. Anakin's passion for flight among the stars is his defiant scream at the old panic, the denial of the deepest darkness of the far reaches of space.

But he has always had Obi-Wan by his side.

The dichotomy of his relationship to the Jedi Master is frustrating, a thing more complex than what he would care to analyze. He resents his Master, sometimes. He loves Obi-Wan always.

Not that he would ever tell _him_ that.

It's not as if he _intentionally_ defies his Masters, although he knows full well that he is held up as a good example of a bad example for the younglings of the Temple. In point of fact, he _hates_ to disappoint Obi-Wan, hates to see the sadness and anger clouding his Master's clear blue eyes. He just always seems to do the wrong thing at the wrong moment. He has an impeccable sense of timing, impeccable in the sense that it has _never once failed_ to get him into trouble, to incite him into doing something that Obi-Wan would describe as _'completely irresponsible.'_

Obi-Wan had said it _so_ many times throughout his training that Anakin had started to imitate his Master whenever that particular reprimand came up, mouthing the words along whenever he knew Obi-Wan wasn't looking. Obi-Wan had a frown to fit each individual occasion; number 11_, trying-to-be-stern-while-about-to-pass-out-due-to-Padawan's-stupidity _was one of the most frequently used, it seemed, right after number 4, which was employed around _all_ modes of interstellar transportation.Anakin didn't know why he had gotten such a rush out of teasing the older Jedi behind his back, all he remembered was that the day of reckoning had been extraordinarily painful – Obi-Wan was better than any of the other Jedi Masters when it came to giving a lecture.

Because he knew Anakin best, and still does. Just as Anakin knows him.

Obi-Wan would scowl and lecture and preach, but sometimes Anakin would catch the tightness at the corners of his mouth, as though his Master was trying desperately not to laugh. Far beneath that reserved surface – so far that even a Corellian mining industry would be hard-pressed to find it – Anakin knows that his Master is just as passionate as he is. Obi-Wan didn't reveal that side of himself to many people. It was those rare glimpses into that secretly guarded part of Obi-Wan, the part that few others ever got to see, that made Anakin revere him completely. They were what had made Anakin start to fall in love.

Anakin had seen the relationships between many Master-Padawan teams while growing up in the Temple, and, like any child, had often whined and moaned about how _mean_ Obi-Wan was, how _unfair_, and how he wished that he had any other Master.

He knows better now. He knows that he has grown up under Master Kenobi's tutelage, even though it came damn near to killing both of them. He knows that he would never trade the connection they have for anything in the world. Obi-Wan Kenobi is Anakin's partner, his friend and Master, and the best thing that ever happened to him.

Which is why Anakin actually listens to him.

Well, most of the time. He's not a child anymore, after all.

When he was a child, he had been afraid of the dark, scared of his sudden reversal in fortune that had landed him a place as the Padawan of a rather grumpy Jedi Knight. Alone and scared, he would creep from the bed in his room and scamper over to Obi-Wan's room. He had intended, the first time, just to listen to the older Jedi's breathing, but he had ended up wriggling under the blankets to cling to the sleeping man's side. Pressing his cold feet against Obi-Wan's warm skin had obviously been a mistake… Anakin had never heard anyone yell so loudly in his life.

Still, he never once had reprimanded Anakin, had never once irately told him to get the hell out and go back to bed. He would merely sigh, that long-suffering sigh that Anakin came to know so well as his apprentice, flip back the covers, and let the boy curl up in his bed while he dozed in a chair.

Anakin had stopped going there after a few months, of course. He had wanted to be brave, to force Obi-Wan to be pleased with him. But, by the Force, had he always felt safe in that room. Knowing that his Master was near.

That emotion is something he has never really grown out of, a lingering feeling of vague dependency. _That_ is why he increasingly pushes Obi-Wan away as he matures, as an assertion of his own independence, a hollow mask behind which he can hide his desperate attachment. He defies his Master's orders and those of the Council, openly and covertly, follows his heart more than his rational mind, and emphatically blazes his own trail through the galaxy. He refuses to walk in anyone's footsteps; to cower in anyone's shadow.

He wants to be able to gaze at Obi-Wan as an equal, craves the warm rush of approval through their Force-bond, symbol of his Master's regard.

He is told that he is the Chosen One, the culmination of a thousand generations of Jedi Lore. That so much rides on his shoulders, and he should behave more accordingly.

He's never felt like the hero from a legend, they were always brave, confident. They were always able to save the ones they loved. He knows that he is unable to do the same, and it eats away at him inside. He lost his mother because of that inability. He looks at Obi-Wan, and remembers the times that Death has come too close. Wondering when their luck will finally run out, when he will arrive too late to save the man who means the galaxy to him. He fears that it is only a matter of time.

He doesn't know what Obi-Wan thinks of the Prophecy, doesn't know what lies behind those calculating azure eyes when his Master regards him in silence. Anakin hopes Obi-Wan doesn't believe it, that his Master respects him for his deeds alone, rather than some intangible destiny laid on him before he knew anything about the Jedi. He hopes Obi-Wan _does_ believe it, because he wants his Master to regard him as unique. As something special.

He worries that Obi-Wan regrets taking him as his Padawan. Even though they're still partners, long after both of them should have moved on.

Anakin is a hero renowned throughout the Galaxy for his brave deeds. He is the strongest, the fastest, and the most powerful of all the Jedi, the quintessential Knight of the Order. However, the title that he claims most proudly is that Obi-Wan Kenobi was his Master.

And yet he still wishes he were a child, so that he could crawl back into that bed, and fall asleep secure in the knowledge that Obi-Wan would watch over him as he slept. Adults don't have the luxury of untroubled sleep. Jedi Knights do not long for the past: they live in the moment, they look to the future.

They do not mourn their comrades.

_"NO!" _Anakin heard the scream tear itself lose from his throat, the raw disbelief that scratched and tore its way inside him. The explosion had been substantial, the little battered old craft that Obi-Wan, in his pedantic way, had insisted on piloting nearly decimated.

All because of him.

They had been flying so beautifully together, and he had gotten the old geezer to _relax_ for once. Anakin was certain that Obi-Wan would learn to love flying if he just gave it a chance. There was something so powerful about it, something indescribably sensuous. Feeling like there was nothing in the world beyond the enemies at hand, and the security of a wing-mate to guard your back. It was a dance of thought and action, of human reflexes and technology's responses.

But he had _had_ to take that chance, had pushed his limits too far. It was an essential quality in a Knight, Anakin had found, to know just where the boundaries of his luck were. Where his good fortune would, inevitably, run out. He had pushed so far, confident in his own abilities, that he hadn't wondered how lucky Master Kenobi was.

And his Master had paid the price for it. No being that wasn't a Jedi could hope to survive a crash in a ship damaged that badly, and even a Jedi could be wounded beyond the healing abilities of a bacta tank.

But his Master's last thought had only been for the mission. As if he wouldn't follow orders, without Obi-Wan there to watch him.

_Do your duty, Anakin. Rescue…on the ship…the Council…._

Oh yes, the old farts on Coruscant would _love_ another chance to get at him, to reprimand and humiliate him before their flat, uncaring eyes. Never mind that if he chose to disobey, it could mean Obi-Wan's life. Never mind that they needed all the Jedi in the Order to be in fighting condition, and that Obi-Wan Kenobi was the best Knight of them all. He wasn't even a Jedi Master yet, and he was smarter than Yoda, braver than Windu…

…and had given his former Padawan a direct order. One that he wanted so _desperately_ to ignore.

"You stupid bastard," he whispered, slamming one hand down on the controls of his ship. "You bastard."

Because he couldn't disobey. Either his Master was unconscious or dead, but Anakin couldn't sense him through their Force-bond. If it was the former of the two, and Anakin showed up to rescue him without first completing his mission objective, Obi-Wan would be severely disappointed in him.

And if it was the latter, then he was already too late to save his Master and friend. And if the one he was supposed to rescue died as well…he would have failed Obi-Wan utterly, rendered his sacrifice completely useless.

Anakin hated it when Obi-Wan was right. He had to think of his duty.

There were tears in his eyes as he turned back to the fight, tears that slowly were consumed in the fires of his anger. He would make it to the ship, and he would rescue whoever they were here to find.

And he would kill every single thing, be it man, woman, or droid, that tried to stop him from getting there.

Time slowed down as to be almost motionlessness, his hands whispering across the controls of his starfighter like a dream. R2's beeping and whistled reports came from far away, far beyond his ability to care. The second wave of droid ships was chasing him, and he piloted his craft through the lethargic moments across the hull of the battle cruiser, leading them on a merry chase.

Much to R2D2's dismay, he blocked the droid from firing their blasters at his pursuers, focusing solely on dodging the obstacles ahead and the enemy fire from behind. The massive plasma rifles on the cruiser began to fire on him as well, and he swung the little craft left then right, spinning it end over end in lazy spirals. The missiles impacted on the cloud of droid ships behind him, but the Separatists didn't care about a few destroyed droids. They cared about capturing and killing this Jedi. Or just the latter of the two, if needs be.

Droids are not creative thinkers. They do not have the ability to reason, to wonder, or to improvise, as the Clone Troopers that the Republic used in battle did. Only their sheer weight of numbers allowed them to take so many planets, so many systems. Droids are not _stupid_, they just cannot think.

So when the droid ships' blaster-fire began impacting on the cruiser's hull, the computer system controlling the shields and cannons began to wonder why.

When the droid ships were continually hit with cannon fire from their own mother ship while their target escaped unscathed, there was only one conclusion for the algorithms to draw.

Anakin left them to discuss their conflict of interest, wrenching his ship upwards out of the increasing storm of a firefight. They wouldn't come close to destroying each other; they were only momentarily thrown by their apparent lack of both target and allies. Soon enough, the mother computer would override the droid ship's programmed response, and all Sith Hell would break loose for him again.

But it gave him time to get under cover.

The firefight also gave ample cover for a single droid ship, controlled by a different program all together, to slip away unnoticed from the battle site.

Dodging into the lee side of the ship, Anakin cut all power to his engines, guiding the ship in through the Force and the residual momentum, slipping through a closing docking-bay before the entrance shield could be reactivated. No one noticed him arrive.

That was worrying.

Anakin dismissed the thought, remembering how much he would tease Obi-Wan for constantly feeling ill-at-ease on their missions if everything was going well. Sometimes, that's just the way things were.

_"Master, when the food hall is out of _chocolate_, you get a bad feeling. This is nothing to worry about. Remember it's _good_ when things go well."_

_"I mistrust missions that turn out to be too easy."_

_"That's because you're a masochist, Master. Relax!"_

_That was, of course, when the concealed droidekas started to fore on them. _

The faint smile at that reminiscence faded as swiftly as it had appeared, like a cloud passing over the face of the sun. He couldn't afford to think of Obi-Wan right now. He would only start to worry if he did that….

Slipping from the docking bay was almost painfully simple – there seemed to only have been a skeleton crew of battle droids left behind to guard the ships and mind the bridge. Anakin saw them as he snuck past open doorways and along corridors, using the Force to mask his presence, to distract those few droids who almost met up with him.

Pausing in an alcove, Anakin stretched out with his senses, _feeling_ for the right direction. _Force_, but he wanted to seek out Obi-Wan instead, but he ignored that impulse, slowing down his breathing and trying to focus. Concentrate. Be mindful of the vagaries of the Living Force, where it converges, and where it has been disrupted.

_(Help me, please!)_

_There!_

The voice had crashed into his barriers, like an unskilled Force-user would do when in pain. Untrained, without any barriers or restraints on their skills. They could be highly dangerous to deal with, to both friends and enemies alike; they simply could not control their power.

Anakin was suddenly glad that he had been the one to tackle the spaceship. Obi-Wan wasn't as powerful as he was when it came to matters of the Force, no Jedi possessed the same raw output of power that Anakin had. His Master's connection to that current of power was dexterous, subtle in its intensity. When they meditated together, Anakin felt the flow of it like a river through his Master's mind, constantly seeking out new routes, new solutions. For his part, well…Obi-Wan had frequently described touching Anakin's mind as being '_walloped by a tidal wave of the Force'_. Obi-Wan had more restraint… and he was too kind. He would let the raw, untrained power of the woman they were supposed to be rescuing flood his barriers and overwhelm him before he took any kind of action against her.

Anakin had no such finer feelings – he would knock the woman out if he had to, to silence the distracting ripples in the Force. If it meant both of their survival, he wouldn't give a damn what she thought of him for that.

Or what Obi-Wan would think of him for that. His Master could be so frustratingly… _chivalrous_, even if it was to his and Anakin's detriment.

The sound had come from roughly above him. A few floors up on this Sith-cursed vessel.

Anakin growled in irritation, hating every moment that he lost. Angrily, he activated the com-link to his ship. "R2, do you copy? Come in, R2…"

A series of cheerful whistles and beeps came back to him. Anakin frowned; it was harder to decipher what the little astromech was saying over the frequency.

"R2, I need you to hack into the mainframe computer, and find out what level the holding cells are on. Specifically, any and all prisoners associated with the planet Veenat-III."

He hesitated a moment, tapping one foot impatiently, peering down the hallway to ensure that he was still alone.

"R2? Hurry it up, would you?"

The beeps that came back did not need translation. Anakin wondered idly where his mech had picked up such language. Certainly not from Padmé, she would have had his circuits scrubbed out with diesel oil if she could have translated the astromech's cursing.

The thought of his wife for once didn't bring a smile to his face. The tail end of that realization struck him as momentarily odd, but it was forgotten as coordinates began to be transmitted through the comlink.

"Thanks R2," he whispered, in a semi-apology for his impatience. Now that he knew where he was supposed to go, he could get in, grab the girl, and get out. Pick up Obi-Wan on the way back to their spaceship, and get the hell home to Coruscant.

Plain and simple. Just the way he liked things.

-----

Sidious activated the comlink to see an impassive battle-droid face, created in perfect miniature and bathed in blue light, staring up at him.

"The Jedi has landed aboard the ship."

Palpatine raised one eyebrow slowly. "Only one?"

"Roger roger. The other fighter was shot down."

Sidious allowed himself the luxury of a smile, a horrible parody devoid of any warmth whatsoever. "Excellent. And is the rest of the plan in place?"

"Roger. BD143-67 was dispatched as per orders."

Sidious deactivated the comlink and leant back in his chair, highly pleased with himself. Politics was just a game of power after all, and power was something he had in abundance. It also required an ability to know one's enemy better than he knew himself… and the Jedi had proved as predictable as always. They had taken the bait, and walked right in, blinded by their misguided virtues of _honour _and _duty_.

Sidious wanted to cackle happily, or rub his hands together in wicked glee, but satisfied himself instead by indulging in another smirk.

Now all he had to do was wait for the jaws of the trap to spring shut.

----

"_Bloody Sith Hell_!" Anakin cursed inwardly for the umpteenth time. The corridors were like a maze, he could have sworn that he had passed the same elevator shaft twice already. He double checked the coordinates on his wrist com, realizing with some relief that he was, in fact, headed the right way. The ship had obviously been designed to keep interlopers like himself _out_; they would wander around in hopeless confusion until they were caught.

If R2 had found the right cell block, then it should be just around this corner….

There was a vague, nagging sensation in the Force. Not of any immediate danger, nothing to make Anakin whip out the lightsaber that hung by his side, always close to hand. But there was something… unsettled. An irritating buzz that vibrated through him, distracting, nagging, worrying. Anakin dismissed the warning – he was on an enemy ship, for Sith's sake, of course there was going to be the faint buzz of danger. There was nothing to worry him for the immediate moment, and it was in the immediate moment that he preferred to stay.

The future held far too many difficult decisions.

Padmé.

Obi-Wan.

Anakin sighed, pushing those thoughts aside as he slid around the corner, back pressed against the slick durasteel wall. There were only two humanoids on duty – the first actual life forms that Anakin had seen on the ship. They looked bored already, he noted with a smile. That would make implanting a Force-suggestion into their malleable minds that much easier.

Abandoning pretence, Anakin strode forward to the console where the two sentients sat staring into space. As they started in surprise, he smiled disarmingly, waving his black-gloved right hand.

"There is no danger here. Relax," he instructed in a soothing voice, nudging the Force to influence their minds.

"There is no danger here…" one of the two men repeated slowly, as though unsure.

"Relax." Anakin affirmed, making a subtle gesture with his hand. "You've done well. Now you can get some rest."

"Now we can get some... rest…"

Anakin suppressed a growl of frustration. It would take far too long to send them into a proper sleep. He was too impatient to wait for that, there had to be another way of doing this. Something that even Obi-Wan would approve of….

Maintaining the same benevolent expression, Anakin increased the power of the Force-suggestion, holding his slack-jawed audience at rapt attention. Never letting their eyes stray from his, he deftly waved his left hand at his side, the movement concealed by his cloak.

The guard's blasters rose slowly into the air behind their heads.

"You're going to go to sleep now."

"We're going to go to..."

Anakin let the weapons fall, the heavy metallic alloy striking the two men on their heads and knocking them into unconsciousness. Anakin couldn't hold back his grin. Fast, easy, and effective….

Calling the data pad of the older guard to his hand, Anakin scanned the cell-release codes. Only one of the cells indicated that it was occupied. Well, that certainly narrowed the search down. He would be out of here and down to Veenat-III in no time.

_(I'm coming Master. I'll be with you soon. I promise.)_

There was a faint answer of… despair? It was muted over the long distance, but it made Anakin frown slightly, wondering at its source. No doubt Obi-Wan was chagrined at having to be rescued _yet again_ by his Padawan. Anakin imagined their meeting with a faint smile. Soon enough. He would be there soon enough.

Even the best of Jedi can be lousy at divination.

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Well, sorry that this took so long to put together, and once again, the chapter ends long before I had originally intended. Well, we'll rejoin Anakin and his rescue mission sometime in the next instalment (I hope?) I just liked that last line too much to continue beyond that point – makes for a pretty good cliff-hanger, don't you think? 

This story seems to be progressing at a snail's pace. Sorry, sorry, sorry! It will pay off later though, I promise!

Xtine


	5. Deceptions

I'll admit that this one is getting _slightly_ into AU territory... as anyone who figures out Adaavi will know. Dont give it away in your reviews if you figure it out! You can email me instead...I cant really justify myself without giving this away, but just bear with me, ok? 

I'd like to thank everybody who has reviewed so far! I'll note a few of you in each chapter from here on out, so dont feel slighted if I miss you this time around!

**DarkGirl5**: Thank you, as always, for such a lovely review! You make me smile! And after reading this chapter, Im sure you can imagine how much Anakin is going to freak out when next he sees Obi. And Im not even finished with him yet! (Xtine's internal sith cackles madly). Im especially glad that you dont mind the pacing, as Ive been flamed for it on other fics before... Force forbid I write a story than a random sex sequence with as little plot set-up as possible! LOL.

**Pershin**: Always good to know that I'm even slightly unique! Hope you like the update.

**Chase:** Go to hell, you asshole. Nah, I love you too, darling! Kisses and huggles.

**Liana:** For Force's sake, control that man whore of yours! Hee! Im still so happy that you reviewed me! Hope that the new chapter can distract you from the evils of university science! BLAH! And just to make this official, witnessed by the small cadre of readers for this fic. THE LEAFS ROCK! So there.

And:

**TEMPLE MISTRESS**! Lol, you're my official Beta, so you always get the capital letters! Thank you so much for helping me get this chapter to quality. I love you for it! Hope that the flow has improved with the updates, and that you finally understand that one paragraph! I tried to make it clearer... not easy. Sigh. Talk to you tomorrow, darling!

Disclaimer: I dont own them. I own the action figures and play make-believe...

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**Chapter 4: Deceptions**

_"I would rather die a meaningless death than to live a meaningless life."  
__Corazon C. Aquino_

_------_

_'Oh Sith, but this is not good.'_

Obi-Wan whirled backwards across the shifting sands, dancing lightly on the balls of his feet. His face was a mask of concentration, as his lightsabre flickered back and forth to meet the menacing crimson of the Sith's blade. He could feel his strength wearing down; felt stinging beads of sweat accumulating on his brow, sliding down into his eyes.

His sabre spun faster in his hands, always giving ground, sliding backwards inside a halo of blue light.

And Dooku came on relentlessly.

And Dooku was winning.

Count Dooku's style of sabre combat was very different than the one that Obi-Wan had studied since he was a Youngling in the Temple. A more civilized style for a more civilized age. An age when Jedi were true _knights_, and expected to fight their enemies face-to-face, looking into the eyes of their opponent, rather than a barrage of fire aimed from a distance. Weapons had changed with the decades, becoming more focused on _slaughter_ than _defence_. Jedi lightsabre techniques had been obliged to adapt to compensate. Count Dooku was a master of his preferred style of lightsabre combat – the second form,_ Makashi_. Obi-Wan's _Soresu_, whose motions were designed for defence against multiple weapons, simply could not compete. While Obi-Wan could whirl his azure blade in a flurry of complicated movements, intricate and graceful as a Twi'lekkian ballet, he could not match the elegant simplicity of Dooku's attack.

Obi-Wan grunted as he blocked a riposte with difficulty, blinking furiously. The air seemed muffled, all sounds muted, nothing beyond the thundering of his heart pounding in his temples, the rasp of his breathing, and the electric hum of his sabre as it sliced the air before him.

Lightsabre combat was a beautiful dance of fluid aggression, passion channelled into serene movement. Obi-Wan had used it almost solely for defence for his decades-long tenure as a Jedi. Now, he was being forced into a retreat, as Dooku pressed his advantage. He was giving ground, being manipulated easily by the older ex-Jedi, forced inexorably backwards to the edge of the dune's crest.

Obi-Wan knew that if he was pushed over onto the slope, he would be killed.

He needed Anakin there, fiery, belligerent Anakin, who was better equipped for offensive combat. Anakin, who had mastered both _Djem So_ and _Shien_, two of the more aggressive forms of 'sabre combat, with laughing ease. Anakin, who never seemed able to calm his mind in battle, who rode the killing edge of the Dark Side, and channelled all of his anger into a single-minded assault. There was a different sense of clarity in letting go, the calm in the eye of the storm.

Anakin had always been there to guard his back in the past. And while his former Padawan would have been equally unable to defeat Dooku single-handedly, together…?

If he had Anakin at his side, Obi-wan knew he could conquer the galaxy.

'_You really are getting old, Kenobi,'_ he thought ruefully. '_You'll have to get your_self_ out of this one.'_

Reaching out to the Force, trying to read Dooku's movements, Obi-Wan feinted left, pretending to have slipped on the changing sands. As the glowing crimson blade slashed downwards, Obi-Wan threw himself sideways, away from the treacherous slope, rolling quickly to his feet into the defensive position once again.

No. He would never win by defence, even if that was the Jedi way. Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and shifted his stance ever so slightly. Altering his grip on the hilt of his lightsabre, he moved fluidly from the defensive stance of Form III into the aggression of Form V. Until in every line of his being - from the way he balanced lightly on his feet, to the intensity in his eyes – he resembled Anakin Skywalker.

Dooku inclined his head in regal approval, struggling to keep a smile from curving his thin lips. Now the _real_ fight could begin.

---

Anakin was almost to the cell door when he felt the ripple in the Force, the subtle change that came over his Master. It made him frown, worried about what this flicker meant. Obi-Wan was fighting… and he was desperate. But there was something _different_ about his Master's Force signature. More aggressive, more confrontational…

More like his _own_.

Anakin suppressed a smile. _Well, well, well. _Obi-Wan _could_ get angry after all. It worried him, to be perfectly honest, knowing that Obi-Wan was facing an adversary strong enough to bring this new side of his Master to the forefront. But Obi-Wan Kenobi was deadly enough when he was letting his anger flow passively into the Force.

Anakin pitied whosoever had managed to piss off his Master enough to crack through that placid Jedi veneer. Whoever it was, he was about to be _annihilated_. He had never known Obi-Wan to let go of the stranglehold on his emotions… it would undoubtedly be unnerving.

Anakin closed his eyes briefly, picturing the scene. Those calm, implacable blue eyes suddenly bright with anger – the way Obi-Wan told him _his_ eyes looked when he was upset. Stance changed from one of defence to one that radiated anger, aggression, and power. The Force aura pouring off of him in waves as he flowed through the powerful motions of _Djem So_.

He would be magnificent like that….

Anakin shook his head roughly; tearing his mind away from the compelling fiction, and the _other_ ways it was inventing of getting Obi-Wan all worked up…. He blushed at the thought. There was a job to do here, and he was acting like a titillated teenager, for Sith's sake. Obi-Wan was… well, he was _Obi-Wan._ That was all there was to it.

With a slightly forlorn sigh, Anakin keyed in the code for the locked door, stepping back as it whooshed open.

And ducked, as a wildly-swung fist nearly connected with the side of his head.

He caught the next blind attack with ease, catching the small hand easily in his own, increasing the weight of his grip as the shadowed creature threw itself at him, knocking him into an undignified heap on the floor. A brutal wave of Force energy washed over him, drowning out his thoughts, his connection to Master Obi-Wan. He quickly shored up his barriers against the attack, trying to reach the centre of that heaving maelstrom that surrounded his mind.

"_Haja!_" he cursed, trying to constrain the violent being, "By the _Force, _I'm here to help you!"

"Separatist _scum!_"

The voice was low, hoarse, but patently female. Anakin couldn't curb a momentary flash of approval at her bold words – she was unarmed, and yet she would attack him fearlessly. It almost reminded him of Padmé.

Tearing away from him, the woman scampered back, eyes wide and breathing heavily. Slowly she crouched into a ready position, fingers splayed like claws before her, ready to tear at his eyes.

Anakin arched one eyebrow, gingerly getting to his feet, wary of disturbing this wildcat of a woman. He suddenly found himself pitying the Separatists who had been forced to capture her. Now that he could see her properly in the harsh illumination of the hallway, Anakin ran an appraising eye over the strange woman. Tall, almost as tall as himself. Well-muscled, though not enough to be unfeminine. Anakin almost blushed again. She was _definitely _female. Striking, almond shaped eyes that burned with dark fires, black as the stylized tattoos on her face that lay in sharp contrast to her pale skin.

She growled low in her throat at his scrutiny. "Lay one hand on me, boy, and I guarantee that you'll live just long enough to regret it!"

But she was unsure; Anakin could feel it. The pounding of her Force energy against his internal shields abated somewhat, as though she was waiting. Assessing him.

Anakin held out a hand, palm upwards, placating. "Could you let up a bit, please?" he forced a smile, gesturing vaguely at his head, still throbbing with the power of her Force Signature. Even though this woman hadn't been taken and trained by the Jedi, there was no _way_ a mind-trick would work on her… unfortunately. He would have to go with diplomacy, which was certainly not one of his strong suits. _Especially_ after being so disparagingly called '_boy_.' The memory made him scowl again.

"I'm not a Separatist," he stated blandly, quelling his anger with difficulty. "I'm a Jedi Knight, and I was sent to rescue you." He almost, _almost_, added _'So show a little gratitude.'_, but knew it wouldn't be conducive to getting out of the cell block swiftly (and in one piece). "Come on. Let's go."

Turning away quickly, with a swirl of his black cloak, he missed the thin smile that curled the woman's lips for the barest of instants.

-----

Obi-Wan moved furiously, letting all of his hatred of Dooku – what he stood for, what he had done to the Jedi, and the fact that they were connected by Qui-Gon – flow not into the Force, as was proper, but down into his hands, tightly clenched on the lightsabre. He poured all of that fire into _fighting_.

Force, but it felt good.

Using Anakin's techniques, Obi-Wan was no longer the controlled, strategic fighter he had been before. He was a machine, tirelessly ferocious, blade whirling with an impossible kinetic energy - thrust, parry, _riposte_! - Almost faster than Dooku could move to respond.

No wonder Anakin preferred this style of combat. The raw power was almost intoxicating. It was a fine line that his partner walked, between mindless violence and the control of the Force. Obi-Wan felt the Dark Side singing to his mind, calling him from the depths of his bottled-up rage.

No. He wouldn't give into that.

"I wouldn't advise imitating your Padawan, Master Kenobi," Dooku advised, content for the moment to be driven backwards under the vicious onslaught, "You've lost your _head_ over the boy, certainly. Can you afford to lose an_ arm_ as well? Between the two of you, you might make one complete Jedi!"

He noted with pleasure the flash in the Jedi's eyes, the way the seamless rhythm of his movements faltered.

The Count smiled, moving into a swift _balestra_, lunging at Obi-Wan's heart. He laughed, as the younger man startled, barely countering the manoeuvre. The upper hand was his once more.

Stamping his foot down in the traditional fencer's appel, Dooku advanced, one foot placed firmly in front of the other. Seeing Obi-Wan's unearthly aggression fade back into wariness, the Count flicked the tip of his lightsabre casually at Obi-Wan's midriff, head, shoulder, forcing the younger Jedi Knight to swing his blade rapidly to deflect the attacks.

_Up! Down! _The blades clashed together as Dooku lunged again, and he was rewarded with a hiss of pain as the scarlet light licked Obi-Wan's knuckles, searing the skin away to blackness. First blood was his.

With a grunt of pain, Obi-Wan switched the sabre to his left hand, evoking an arched eyebrow from Dooku. He hadn't known Qui-Gon's Padawan to be fully ambidextrous… most Jedi, less comfortable with their abilities, would have attempted to ignore such a minor wound for the sake of fighting with their stronger hand.

This young one was confident, much like his Padawan; the Skywalker boy. It really would be a pity to kill them.

Pity.

Kenobi moved forward with an almost hypnotic grace, sky-blue blade swinging up blindingly, lunging at the Count's heart in a most un-Jedi manoeuvre. Dooku batted it aside with some effort, leaping backwards to avoid the next violent slash that cut towards his middle. The Jedi Knight was advancing now, eyes focused and hard, as elegant and predatory as a Trianii Ranger.

_'It's a shame that Lord Sidious never saw this side of you, Kenobi_,' Dooku mused as he allowed himself to be pushed back by the younger Jedi Knight's sudden aggression. _'Stripped of the bindings of a Jedi, you have remarkable potential. Almost as much as Skywalker.'_

It would be a shame to have to kill him, really, but Dooku wasn't in the mood to allow this farce to play out any longer. With a swift, decisive strike, he knocked the blue beam to one side, driving his weapon into Obi-Wan's unguarded shoulder.

Obi-Wan couldn't suppress his cry of shocked pain, scarcely managing to call the cylindrical emitter of his sabre back into his wounded right hand as his left arm spasmed and fell useless at his side.

He stared into Dooku's eyes, seeing only Death therein. Suddenly the wide, sweeping vista of the desert seemed to hem him in, crushing him with his insignificance to the galaxy as a whole.

"Pathetic." Dooku's sneering tone was an echo of his own morose thoughts. "I would have expected better from Qui-Gon's Padawan. Once again, you disappoint me, Master Kenobi."

He_ was_ a disappointment. He had known that from his first day as a Padawan. Known that he would fail.

"No wonder you've been abandoned to die down here. Alone. Unwanted."

No. No, that was a lie. Anakin needed him, needed his Master to look out for him, to fight alongside him.

Didn't he?

_(Anakin,)_ he sent the name as a whisper into the Force. _(Please, Anakin… answer me.)_

----

The small fighter was ready to leave by the time they arrived back at the hangar. Anakin hadn't once looked back at the woman who was now his charge, still irritated by the condescending manner with which she had treated him. He was _her_ rescuer, not the other way around. He could have just left her in that cell to _rot_. She _should_ be thanking him; she was _supposed_ to be grateful to him. At least that thrice-damned psychic storm of hers had eased somewhat, though some part of it remained, buzzing irritatingly just beyond his barriers. Of course, she was untrained, so it wasn't_ her_ fault….

But it wasn't improving his mood any.

"Stand by to disengage hangar force-field, R2," he snapped, then turned sharply as a hand descended softly on his arm.

The woman snatched her hand away at the anger in his eyes, but recovered swiftly. "I just wanted to apologize for attacking you earlier," she said in a low voice, her eyes modestly downcast. "I wasn't sure the Jedi would even come for me…"

Anakin immediately felt abashed for treating her so brusquely. Who knew what the woman had gone through while imprisoned on this ship? He forced a smile. "I don't even know your name." he wondered aloud, handing her up into the co-pilot's seat of his Delta-7. Acting the perfect gentleman, as Obi-Wan would have done, no doubt.

She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. The way Obi-Wan's did when he was trying unsuccessfully _not _to smile….

"My name is Adaavi Xiann."

Anakin almost frowned. For some reason, there was the echo of another name in his mind. A sense of counter-déjà vu that he couldn't quite explain…as though it was something he _hadn't_ yet seen, but would, sooner or later.

The woman – Adaavi, now – interrupted his thoughts before he could untangle the peculiar sensation. "What's your name, Master Jedi?"

"Hmm?" he blinked. "Oh. It's Anakin. Anakin Skywalker."

There was a strange reverberation in the Force as he said the name. As though it was being repeated from a distance. He stretched out along the Force bond that joined him to Obi-Wan, but there was still nothing. Peculiar, it felt almost blank… after the outburst of rage, Obi-Wan was most likely over-compensating by being super-Jedi again….

The sooner he got down to the planet, the better it would be. Time enough to interrogate this Adaavi Xiann later… when Master Obi-Wan could do it instead.

Swinging into the cockpit, Anakin flexed his fingers gleefully; lowering the hatch and signalling for R2 to disengage the shields that protected the hangar form the vacuum of space. Then he 'accidentally' fired two torpedoes point-blank into the rear of the docking bay, before streaking out into the void.

The explosion that lit up space behind them was beautiful. He couldn't resist the wild cry of manic joy that erupted from his throat, nor could he deny the instinct to spin the small fighter in a snap-roll, exulting in his victory as they made their escape.

Now all he had to do was trace Obi-Wan's ship on the planet, make another quick rescue and…

Oh _Sith_. Fucking Sith hell.

Adaavi must have felt his agitation, strong in the Force as she was, as she leaned forward in response. "Is there a problem?"

"I need to swing you by our ship," Anakin responded tersely, mad at himself for not commandeering another ship before blowing the docking bay. "I need to rescue my Master- he's down on the planet without transport." '_And this is only a light-interceptor, after all. It barely holds _two_ people….'_

"You're worried about him."

Anakin hesitated, unable to properly express himself.

"You must care very much for him."

He did. _Force_, but he did. More than was proper for a Jedi to care about _anything_, he knew that full well. Which was why he had never told Obi-Wan, his ultimate Jedi Master, who embodied every single rigorous and arbitrary detail of the Jedi Code. It would mean having to end their partnership, which was not a viable option in Anakin's mind. Better that Obi-Wan never knew and kept Anakin as a partner, as a friend.

"R2. Take us back to the ship," his voice was oddly rough.

A series of whistled hoots in reply as R2 acquiesced. Anakin was glad that the little droid hadn't argued for once; he didn't think he would have handled it very well….

----

There was no answer through the Force from Anakin. Nothing. After being so tightly bonded for years on end, having that comforting presence always within reach, the sudden _absence_ threw Obi-Wan slightly off-balance. He stepped back once, twice, cautiously raising his lightsabre out before him, angling it diagonally across his body in a defensive stance.

Dooku smirked. All too easy.

As Obi-Wan moved back another step, the Count reached into the Force, summoning the little _surprise_ his Master had planned for this arrogant Jedi. Something with which he was already familiar.

Expecting to find them, Dooku had no difficulty picking out the camouflaged tentacles of the two JK droids as they snuck across the ground towards the retreating Jedi. A Jedi who was walking right in between them without even knowing what was coming. Apparently, Sidious had cloaked the two machines well; they were invisible to anything but the Dark Side.

Obi-Wan cursed as sinuous ropes wound tightly around his legs without any forewarning. So intent had he been on the Sith Lord before his eyes that he hadn't been concentrating on the Force as a whole. The fact that Dooku made no attempt to attack him in the moment of distraction made Obi-Wan's heart tighten with foreboding.

Twisting his lightsabre downwards, Obi-Wan tried to slash at the writhing bonds, only to have another cord slither up his arm, wrapping around it and prohibiting movement.

This was very, disconcertingly familiar. Why was he thinking of Kit Fisto _now_…?

Ah. Cestus.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to curse once again.

"I see that you remember our little friends." Dooku's sonorous voice was amused.

JK Droids, of course. Jedi Killers. Force-sensitive machines that had been fashioned on Cestus a few years back. He had gone with Kit to stop the production of the monstrous things… but they had discovered that the droids, due to their communication to the Force, were actually incapable of killing anything without being driven mad.

All the same, Obi-Wan still had some scars from his last encounter with one of the droids. They were faster than a Malastarian pod-race, and far more dangerous.

He gasped sharply as the droids rose out of the sand into his line of vision, flawless in their symmetry, sweeping aesthetic lines…and perfectly designed for destruction. Their shifting tentacles wound farther up his arms, and tightened across the lightsabre wound in his left shoulder, probing at it until he wanted to scream.

Dooku laughed, as though reading his thoughts. Obi-Wan glared at him, intense hatred making his blue eyes glow with unnatural fires.

"Oh worry not, my dear friend," Dooku said tightly, as though he would be jumping for joy, were it not beneath him, "_these_ two droids have no compunctions about killing, or inflicting pain. Every Force-sensitive species has one or two members who are drawn to the Dark Side. You should feel honoured that my Master went through such lengths to procure these two, specifically for your capture."

"Well, I'm sure he will feel slightly less pleased when I destroy both of them, Dooku," he snarled, struggling against his captors, trying to reach his lightsabre, tied hand and foot as he was.

The ex-Jedi shook his head, disappointed. "Empty words, my boy. Qui-Gon should have taught you better." he gestured, and a crackling line of electricity sparkled along the tentacles that bound Obi-Wan.

_Blackness_. Excruciating agony that pushed him beyond the threshold, until his eyes rolled back and all he could see were stars…he slumped forward as the power surge ended, barely managing to remain on his feet.

Through the haze of pain that washed over his vision, Obi-Wan could see Dooku's superior smirk, the icy triumph that flickered across his regal face. The sight awakened some stubborn instinct, making him clench his jaw tightly.

Inside, his mind was racing.

Anakin.

Anakin was somewhere above the planet, finishing off his own mission, and then he would come down here to rescue his hopeless Master. Oh _Force_. Obi-Wan tried to reach his friend once again, but to no avail. What, by the stars, was blocking his connection to Anakin?

If Anakin came down here alone, Dooku would use Obi-Wan against him. He would be a pawn of this Sith-bred son of a whore, and would be used to hurt Anakin. To hurt his precious Anakin. The thought wounded him more deeply than the lightsabre hole in his shoulder. Better that he died before he was made to aid the Sith, however involuntary it might be.

Dooku wanted to hear him scream, but he would not give the sadistic Count even that meagre triumph. If he had to die here, then so be it. He would die, and die well, as befitted a Jedi Knight. He would not make a sound.

This time, Obi-Wan caught the subtle nod that Dooku directed at the two JK's, felt the wash of malice through the Force-touch that passed between the machines and the human monster. Swiftly, he dove inwards, shoring up his barriers, seeking the calm centre of his soul, where he could shield himself with the Force.

To no avail.

_Pure, blinding anguish. _

The pain ripped through him again, fracturing the world into splinters of light, tearing mercilessly through his mind, through his thoughts, as the JK droid's tentacles ripped through his body. He was screaming, screaming mindlessly inside his head, adamant in his refusal to let a sound escape his lips.

Still, he couldn't quite smother a gasp as the filaments narrowed, razoring through skin and muscle. Every exertion Obi-Wan made to free himself, every attempt to break loose from the bindings only wound the threads tighter.

His eyes never strayed from Dooku's own, engaged in a battle of wills.

"You failed _my_ Padawan, didn't you, Master Kenobi?" the Count whispered sinuously. "How ironic that you will fail _yours_ as well." he gestured negligently, with one hand, a cruel smile shaping his thin lips.

A nebulous image of Anakin, struck down on the sand, rose to blind him with horror, making him let down his guard in a single consuming moment of vehement denial.

Instantly, Obi-Wan felt the pressure of the Force weighing down on his shoulders, answering to Dooku's manipulations, forcing him to his knees. Battered and beaten as he was, there was no way Obi-Wan could stand against such an onslaught as well. Especially not after Dooku had laid bare his worst fear.

_Anakin…._

Obi-Wan collapsed into the sand, throwing out one hand instinctively to break his fall, and arching his back in pain as this movement only drove the razor-edged tentacles deeper into his arm.

His left arm was already worse than useless, but now he could no longer feel his right hand either, except for an odd tingling sense of pressure. Blood had sheeted the skin with red, puddling underneath his fingers, collecting the pale sand into dark clumps. Rivulets of his life trickling down over the dune.

Beaten.

Dooku sneered, jerking the Force roughly to make Obi-Wan's chin snap up, forcing the Jedi to meet his eyes once again. Obi-Wan squinted into the furious sunlight, seeing the compassionate, almost grandfatherly smile of the former Jedi's countenance. It made his skin crawl.

"Why would they ever choose a failure like you to train such a remarkable child…?" Dooku mused, letting go the Force, allowing Obi-Wan's head to fall forward in exhaustion once again. "Well, it is of no consequence. Soon your remarkable apprentice will have a _new_ Master, and you will be dead."

Obi-Wan lunged forward, rage and fear sparking in his heart, blocking out the pain. "I _won't_ let you _touch_ him!"

"My dear Master Kenobi," Dooku intoned gravely, "You won't have a choice."

He tried to reach out to Anakin, felt suddenly his friend's Force-touch against his mind. A reassurance that he would arrive soon.

_"No."_ Obi-Wan whispered in dismay. Anakin would come to rescue him, and Dooku would be waiting to spring the trap. No. _No._

_(Stay back, Anakin. Don't come here!)_

"Calling for help, Master Kenobi? From that boy that you love so much? That's hardly the way for a _Jedi_ to behave. No wonder you're such a failure – how can you be a Master to the boy, if you can't even master yourself?"

Dooku's words cut into his heart, eliciting an involuntary whimper from his lips. Yes. He had failed Anakin in life, but he would be damned if he did so in death.

_(Stay away, Anakin… please…)_

But he was too weak. Too damnably weak to reach across such a distance when Anakin was otherwise distracted. It took an inordinate amount of power to reach his former Padawan's mind when Anakin as concentrating on something else.

_(Please stay away…)_

Dooku almost laughed, feeling the Jedi's distress. Lord Sidious had been right; this one was remarkably easy to break. The boy was his weak spot, just as Kenobi was Anakin's. How wonderfully convenient.

A snap of his long, bony fingers, and a panel on the right JK droid slid back, revealing a large syringe, filled with clear liquid.

Thanatizine. It would smother Kenobi's Force signature enough to draw the boy down to the planet… just in time to see his Master be struck down before his eyes. Then it would be all too easy for him to be turned. But first, he'd have a little more fun with this wretched shade of a Jedi.

Obi-Wan struggled weakly as the syringe approached his neck, trying in vain to pull away. Then the prick of a needle against his skin, and everything blurred and swam before his eyes. He squinted, struggling to keep his head up as he noticed for the first time a wavering figure that approached Dooku from behind, stark black against the pale sand. His movements were oddly familiar.

He tried to scream, but only a mumble escaped his lips. Everything slowed down to freeze-frames of time.

The blue glare of a lightsabre. Anakin's lightsabre.

Count Dooku's smile, as he attacked.

Anakin lunging, missing…leaving himself open.

The red sabre that burned a perfect hole through the young Jedi's heart.

Anakin collapsing…Anakin dying….

Summoning all his remaining strength, borne of devastating anguish, Obi-Wan blasted a single word into the Force.

_(ANAKIN!)_

Sky and sand melded together, and he was falling, falling….

* * *

Ah... Obi-torture. This is what gets me through my day...especially the Political Science part of it...

"To the light side of the Force, a review leads. Leave one for Xtine, you should..."

Hey, if YODA says it's the right thing to do, then it's gotta carry some weight, eh? Eh?

Xtine


	6. Come What May

Finally chapter five is finished! ( well, no shit, or else it wouldn't be up here, right? LOL). Sorry, I endured mega writer's block on this one about halfway through the chapter, and started writing something else to take my mind off of it! I hope you'll all check out THAT fic once it's published as well - "The Movie Fic". Pure fluff, because Liana and Temple Mistress dared me…. Great friends, eh?

REVIEWERS! I adore all of you!

**Alchemy Dream**: No, even though that song could easily apply to both of our Jedi men, it's probably not the best soundtrack for this fic, eh? I usually listen to the Hannibal soundtrack, actually… delightfully angsty! I'm thrilled that the descriptions sweep you away… can you tell that I'm first and foremost a _visual_ artist! (high five) And don't worry about the pace of your reviews… they go no slower than my updating of the chapters!

**Anliya**: Glad that you came back to give the fic a try! I know, I'm a whore for clifhangar-endings! It makes it more interesting anyways, right? Er..I hope so?

**White Destiny**: OKOKOK! Here it is, you don't have to tie me up! That would make it

a little hard to type anyways, wouldn't it? Ha ha!

**Liana-chan**: Glad to see you joining the community of authors on here! And thank you SO much for talking me through my growly writers-block phase on this with unhelpful reminders of senior English!

**TEMPLE MISTRESS**: What can I say? In the words of the loverly god of Hotness, EMcG: _"fucking brilliant"_. You really are!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Come What May**

"_Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste…it all revolves around you."  
__From Moulin Rouge_

Dooku dusted his hands together disdainfully, returning his lightsabre to his belt and eyeing the collapsed form of the Jedi Knight. _Really_. A little Force suggestion and these new Jedi lost complete control over themselves, seeing exactly what their enemies told them to see. No wonder the Republic was falling apart, under the guidance of these incompetents.

The nebulous mirage he'd created of the Skywalker boy hadn't even been _that_ realistic. It hadn't needed to be, apparently, he had felt that last rush of anguish from Kenobi before the thanatizine had fully taken hold. Remarkable what ridiculous reactions this emotion of _love_ provoked….

Dooku hoped that Asajj had done her job properly, dropping the Force-inhibiting shield she was maintaining long enough for the Skywalker boy to sense his Master's despair. It would make Skywalker that much more aggressive when he descended to Veenat-III.

It would make him that much more vulnerable.

He snapped his fingers idly at two battle-droids, standing attentively nearby.

"Take him."

----

"Right where I left you." Anakin couldn't keep the relief from his voice as the small cruiser he and Obi-Wan had piloted to Veenat-III came into view. For some reason, he had felt this terrible premonition about the ship – as though it would be gone when he got there, stranding him and his Master in this Force-forsaken quadrant of the galaxy. They had left it on the far side of the planet from where the Separatist ship had been lying in wait, hoping to escape detection. Apparently the ship_ had_ been far enough away that no battle droids from the enemy cruiser had picked it up on their sensors. When Anakin got Obi-Wan back safe and sound, he would be able to say a smug "I told you so".

Adaavi didn't seem at all relieved to see the ship, however. Anakin could feel her tenseness through the Force, a distracting flitter around the edges of his perception, eating away at his focus and concentration. He reached out along the lines of his Force-bond to Obi-Wan, feeling yet again that strange, muffled sensation, as though a porous wall separated the two of them, muting and distorting any attempts at communication.

With a low growl, he _pushed_ against that barrier, exerting more of his will, more power against the obstruction. He could feel it starting to give, feel the faintest whisper of Obi-Wan's thoughts.

_Fear._

_Desperation._

_PAIN!_

A sudden _crack_ of blasterfire and the ship hewed sharply to the left.

"Bloody Sith _hell!_" Anakin yelled, caught off guard. Damn damn _damn_! He had been too occupied with trying to find Obi-Wan to focus on the world around him…his Master would _never_ let him live this one down if he found out. But what in the Sith was a droid fighter doing on _this_ side of the planet? And all alone?

Behind him, Adaavi opened her eyes, a faint gleam twinkling in their dark depths.

"R2! Try to lock on to it. I'm going to hit the Sith-cursed thing with everything we've got." Anakin snapped his fighter into a steep rolling dive, hearing a low moan from Adaavi behind him. Ignoring that distraction, he tore after the small battle droid, whose only intent now seemed to be escape.

"Oh no you don't," Anakin growled, lining up the small ship in his scopes.

"Look out!" Adaavi screamed from behind him. Startled, he yanked on the steering column, sending his fighter tumbling through space. A stream of particle beams lanced across the space where they had been only moments before.

"Thank you," Anakin managed, swinging out of the uncontrolled dive with practised ease.

"_Loz noy jitat," _she cursed in response, whispering it like a prayer. (1)

Anakin let out a slow breath letting go of his corporeal perceptions in favour of the Force that flowed beyond them. Letting go of everything else, until he felt only the ship, the engines, the controls, the cannons. His mind spread out, encompassing the untrained knot in the Force that was Adaavi, the void of space between him and the droid ship, the ship itself.

And he knew where to strike.

Pushing the rear thrusters to full until the gages before his eyes ran into the 'danger' zone, until the durasteel components shrieked under the enormous stress and Adaavi began muttering prayers to some alien God, Anakin forced his small vessel after the droid fighter.

"Come on…" he pushed harder, scraping every last ounce of speed from the shuddering durasteel craft.

_"You're going to _kill_ us!" _Adaavi shrieked.

_"Come on…."_

As he shot by underneath the enemy craft, Anakin released two thermal charges, moving swiftly out of their range before they could lock on to _his_ craft.

The droid ship didn't even try to escape, but launched another wave of particle beams after the retreating Delta-7. Abused as the craft already was, Anakin couldn't dodge every missile – some impacted along the fuselage and wings, making R2 shriek in pitiful protest.

Then there was only a burst of brilliant orange light.

Anakin raised his gloved right hand to shield the glare from his eyes. He wanted to see the cursed thing _burn_, to witness the fiery death of this droid who had _dared_ to attack him – who would keep him from rescuing Obi-Wan immediately.

_Obi-Wan_…. Anakin felt his heart constrict painfully at the thought of his Master. He had felt those raw emotions from the older Knight so clearly, enough to know that Obi-Wan was all alone and suffering on that _fucking_ piece of rock.

Now there was nothing, he sensed nothing, _felt nothing!_

No. He would know if Obi-Wan was dead. He had known after Jabiim that his Master was still alive; he knew it the same way now. Without thought or emotion, without any consideration of factual evidence. He just _knew._

Obi-Wan was alive. Alive, but in great need of his friend and apprentice.

"Damage, R2?" Anakin swallowed heavily, blinking the faint sting of tears from his eyes. He had done what was necessary to keep himself and Adaavi alive… but he had seriously damaged his fighter in the attempt, damaged their only remaining form of transport. Rescue would have to wait on repairs.

And every second he spent away from his Master, their connection muffled, tore a little more at his heart.

Numbers and figures scrolled across the screen, R2's excited bleeping high-pitched in his ears. Right wing engine damaged, forward thrusters showing severe signs of strain. Most of the harm beyond that was purely superficial. Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. He had planned on landing their interstellar cruiser on the face of that damn planet, if it meant he would reach Obi-Wan more quickly… but his Master would never have forgiven him for placing a Jedi's life over the life of their charge, Adaavi.

"Remind me… _never_ to fly with you…_ever_ again," the woman muttered from behind him, sounding as though she was about to be sick.

She sounded like Obi-Wan….

Hitting the autopilot controls and slumping back exhausted into his seat; Anakin let his eyes fall closed. "Take us back to the ship, R2."

----

Asajj Ventress watched the inferno consume the single droid fighter with a measure of irritation. She had alerted the damn thing, given it the coordinates of that Skywalker boy's Delta-7, and yet it had failed to do any substantial damage whatsoever. Ah, well, the repairs would still take some amount of time to complete, before the boy could go and mount a rescue of his beloved Master.

Ventress wanted to scream at the thought. Every time she pictured that Jedi, with his gingery hair and superior smile, a black tide of rage swamped her thoughts, threatening to tear her apart. She hated Obi-Wan Kenobi. She _hated_ him. He was weak, worthless, and pitiful. A false Jedi. And yet he lived where her Master had died.

The one man who had cared about her in her entire life – a mentor, a father – killed by an uprising of worthless peasants.

And the Jedi Order hadn't lifted a finger to save him. To save _her. _

Obi-Wan Kenobi represented everything that had gone wrong in her life. A paragon of the corrupted Jedi Order that had abandoned her Master; the reason she had failed on her mission to Cestus and disappointed her _new_ Master. He had defeated her, and it _rankled_. Worse still, he had taken her dead Master's lightsabre from her; the only proof she had that the happier times in her life weren't just a dream.

It was unforgettable, _unforgivable_, that he would steal her most prized possession and then _dare_ to pity her. Obi-Wan was a thief and a liar – like all Jedi were in the end. He was a thorn in her mind, a splinter that was driving her mad.

Until the only thing she could think about was revenge. That was what drove her; _that_ was her sole obsession. To make Obi-Wan Kenobi suffer for his crimes; the crimes of a Jedi. Of _all_ Jedi.

And the worst thing, the most _miserable_ failure was that she had _had_ Obi-Wan Kenobi in her clutches, once upon a time, had taken him from Jabiim to her former home-planet of Rattatak.

And she had allowed him to escape, through her own negligence and over-confidence. She had hurt him, beaten his body, chained him and drugged him and tormented him, but it had all been for _nothing!_ His survival was a slap in the face, an affront that could not be tolerated. _Would not_ be tolerated.

She regretted not killing Kenobi more bitterly than anything else in her life.

Now _Dooku_ got to have the fun, attempting to torture the Jedi Knight beyond the limits of his endurance. And while the longer Skywalker took to fix his ship meant a longer duration of suffering for Kenobi, it also meant it was more torture she was missing out on. She wanted to hear the Jedi scream.

Perhaps she could play with this one a bit, before letting him walk into Dooku's lair. Let him know exactly how much his Master was hurting. Yes… that would be delightful. Perhaps a well-timed leak in the Force-inhibiting shield she was maintaining around him that cut him off from reaching Kenobi?

Yes. She would let Skywalker feel a taste of that anguish, before striking. And when she delivered this so-called _Chosen One_ to the Count, beaten and imprisoned, perhaps he would realize that _she_ was a far worthier candidate for the teachings of the Sith.

----

There was no perceptible damage to the main ship, nothing that Anakin could see as they approached the docking bay. Nothing to indicate that the small droid ship had even been in the vicinity. It was mildly disconcerting… but there were more pressing issues at hand.

As the hangar doors slid shut with a deep _thud_, Anakin leapt from the cockpit of the Delta-7, ignoring Adaavi and R2 as he walked around the small fighter, running his left hand over the twisted metals.

"It's going to need a lot of work, R2," he muttered as the astromech trundled over to him. "Fucking _Sith!" _He punched the durasteel hull with his cybernetic right hand, turning away to find Adaavi staring at him.

"Come on, I'll show you around quickly," he muttered, ashamed. "R2, see what you can find out from the shipboard computer… we're going to need to improvise a bit."

He barely registered the fact that he was speaking, showing Adaavi where the 'freshers were, where she could get food, where she would sleep – Anakin's room, since it was only a two-man vessel. His mind was far away, seeking the comforting touch of Obi-Wan's thoughts. Sith, but he wouldn't care if his Master was reprimanding him for some transgression, so long as Obi-Wan was _there_.

"…and this is the bridge," he trailed off lamely, walking forward to press one hand against the transparent vidscreen. He could see Veenat-III below him, so close and yet still so far out of reach. He clenched his fist.

_A shimmering image of himself, lying on a sandy dune, eyes staring blankly._

_Dead._

Anakin blinked sharply. What in the _Sith…?_

"Are you all right?" Adaavi had moved closer to him, touching his arm tentatively, eyes wide.

"I….I'm fine. I just…" he shook his head, disconcerted. Had that vision been sent by the Force, a premonition of his fate should he go to Veenat-III? Anakin had never set much store by fate; he would go to Obi-Wan, whether it meant his life or not.

_(Anakin….)_

_(Master?)_

Anakin screamed as blinding pain ripped up his right arm, his right arm that wasn't real, that wasn't supposed to feel anything. It drove him to his knees; white-hot lines of pain shrieking along his nervous system, making the entire room seem to spin. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he saw his arm as it had been, skin and bone… and sheeted with blood. Blood that pooled under his fingertips, on the durasteel floor.

"What…?" he gasped.

Adaavi was smiling at him. A thin, cold smile, her face ghastly in the harsh white lights.

"What are you…?"

The annoying buzz of her uncontrolled Force-signature was gone now, replaced by a yawning black chasm that threatened to draw him in. A void that hummed and crackled angrily with all the raw power of the Dark Side.

And he knew suddenly, with a sick lurching motion in his stomach, that he had been deceived. That he and his Master had been lured in to a trap.

_(Oh Force, _Obi-Wan!)

Adaavi smiled at his frantic cry into the Force. "Poor little boy," she crooned malignantly, a wicked smile marring her symmetrical features. "You _really_ think he's going to answer you? He's with _my_ Master now."

Anakin struggled to his feet, throwing out one arm to catch himself on the computer console as his knees buckled. He couldn't think straight, his mind being drowned out by vision after vision of his Master, his Obi-Wan, being hurt, being tortured and killed.

He stumbled backwards a step as Adaavi approached him, growling low in his throat. "Who are you?"

She laughed in wicked delight, her dark eyes glinting unnaturally as she called into her hands two lightsabre emitters that had been concealed in the flow of her clothing. "My dear boy, did Kenobi never tell you what I looked like? A terrible oversight on his part, wouldn't you say?"

Two crimson beams sprung to life as she spoke, and her expression hardened into one of pure loathing.

"_Ventress."_ Anakin hissed.

Suddenly the weakness that had possessed him was gone, burned away by the fires of the rage that flooded through his body and washed his vision with red.

_Asajj Ventress. _

The syllables of that name were burnt into his mind, awakening a bloodlust he had not felt since he had massacred the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine. _She_ was the one who had taken Obi-Wan from him on Jabiim, who had tried to drive them apart. He had seen the scars Obi-Wan still carried from his encounter with Ventress on Rattatak, scars that the Jedi Knight refused to talk about. Physical mementos of torture that still made Obi-Wan wake screaming in the night.

Anakin had seen the darkness in his Master's eyes if ever she was mentioned. He had heard those desperate cries.

She had hurt Obi-Wan.

And it didn't matter what he had to do, be it succumbing to the darker side of his nature, or violating the Jedi Code. He didn't care if he was expelled from the Order for murder, so long as he made this bitch _scream_. Until she_ begged _him for her death. She had hurt _his_ Obi-Wan.

And she would die for it.

Anakin flew at her, a wild yell of rage tearing lose from his throat, lightsabre already in hand. There was no room for thought or strategy, only vengeance.

Asajj Ventress smirked as she blocked that first, crazed attack. The boy was easier to provoke than she had suspected. This so-called "Hero with No Fear" had one deep, dark secret after all; one overriding dread that was so painfully _easy_ to exploit.

It centred around Obi-Wan Kenobi. Skywalker was terrified of his Master coming to any harm.

Ventress scowled as she whirled her lightsabres, easily warding off the boy's attack with one, while seeking an opening in his movements with the other. She had been possessed of the same fear, once upon a time. But her fear had come true. Her Master had died.

Now Skywalker would endure the same thing.

Dancing back lightly, Ventress swung her left sabre in a curving arc, slashing down at the Jedi Knight's unprotected head. There was no longer any thought of keeping this whelp alive; she had seen something of herself in him, and that was intolerable. She was _nothing_ like a Jedi. She would finish this game quickly, and take her time with Kenobi instead.

But Skywalker blocked the attack.

Startled, Ventress paused in her assault.

Anakin stood in the centre of the bridge, harsh lights glistening over the sheen of sweat that coated his forehead. His lightsabre was locked in a powerful grip over his head, blade angled down towards her. His eyes burned with the same intensity of blue as the crackling beam.

And he was _smirking, _well aware of the powers that he possessed, and his abilities to use them. A malicious parody of a grin, more a feral grimace than anything else.

_No, this wasn't possible._

He moved like lightning, spinning the sky-blue beam to dislodge her own, lunging forward to intercept the other crimson blade. The crackle and hiss of the two meeting filled the room.

_Dooku had fought this boy before. He wasn't _this_ strong._

The blade moved faster than her eye could follow, amazingly precise, an incredibly focused flurry of motion. Ventress parried desperately, reversing the angle of her attacks at the last minute, alternating sweeping slashes of the crimson blades with sudden jabs and thrusts. But she was slowly giving ground, dodging many of the young man's strikes rather than blocking them.

_Where had Skywalker gained this sudden burst of power?_

Oh no. Oh _Sith_, no.

Skywalker was stronger now that he was fighting for a purpose. He was fighting for Obi-Wan Kenobi. There was a strange, preternatural light that suffused his features, a grim clarity in his eyes and a fluid precision in his movements.

Asajj snarled, leaping back over a console to gain a few precious seconds to recover herself. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Skywalker was just a _boy_. A heartsick, love-struck boy, barely even a Jedi Knight.

"Do you think you're going to be able to save him?" she snarled, using the Force to leap suddenly at the young Knight, bringing one blade over her head while sweeping the other in front of her at his waist.

He dodged left, avoiding the over-hand strike, swinging his blade in a low guard to ward off the second blade. But Ventress felt that momentary flicker of fear, of anxiety.

"I'll kill _you_ first," Anakin snapped, swinging his blade roughly to knock hers wide, sending a Force-push at her chest to send her sprawling backwards onto the floor.

Anakin tried to block out Ventress' taunt as he moved into a lightning-fast attack. Of course he would be able to save Obi-Wan. He would not fail his Master as he had failed others in the past. As he had failed his mother….

He wouldn't let that happen again.

But her words had awakened a little worm of fear that burrowed, ice cold, into his heart, undermining his confidence. He inhaled slowly, eyes riveted on his enemy's, but in his mind's eye, he summoned forth an image of his Master. Not in battle, or in the Council chambers. Not as a General of the Republic, or even as a Jedi Knight.

It was Obi-Wan, as he had been on the long voyage to Veenat-III, dozing in his chair in front of the co-pilot's controls. Expression completely relaxed and serene, long eyelashes dusting his cheeks, wholly unaware that Anakin was watching him.

The memory brought a smile to Anakin's lips, one that provoked a responding snarl from Ventress. He would not – _could not_ – fail to rescue Obi-Wan, simply because he would allow himself to do nothing less. Obi-Wan was too important; to the Republic, to the Order…to Anakin.

_(I'm coming for you, Master. I'll be there soon, I swear.)_

The overwhelming sense of despair that flooded him in response to this reassurance knocked him off balance.

_(Stay back Anakin. Don't come here!)_

Obi-Wan sounded so afraid through their bond, so desperate. But it only strengthened Anakin's conviction that his Master had great need of him. Excruciating as it was to do so, he deliberately blocked off their bond, so that he could focus on the task at hand.

With a whirl of the blue blade, he dashed inside Ventress' guard, spinning the emitter in his right hand to cut one of the two crimson blades. His smile widened slightly as he moved back beyond her reach, deliberately goading her on. Now they were on even footing, two Master-less Jedi, one dark and one light. But he had something beyond revenge and anger to be fighting for. That was his advantage.

Deliberately, Anakin settled into a defensive posture, readying himself for her attack. He would kill her on this pass; he could see it like a premonition through the Force.

Ventress rushed at him, bringing her blade up high, screaming in fury.

Anakin dropped lower, bending his knees slightly, ready to spring upwards and sever her arms at the elbows, before swinging his blade through her neck….

_(ANAKIN!)_

The cry ripped through his head, tearing through his thoughts with the sheer intensity of raw _anguish_ that it carried. Anakin heard himself screaming in incoherent reply, stumbling backwards.

Ventress' yell turned into a howl of triumph as she brought her blade down, a crimson line of fire rupturing the sterile air.

Anakin turned he head to one side, trying to avoid the blow, throwing out his left hand to hold her back. The rubicund light crept closer to face.

The sudden sensation of his bond with Obi-Wan being plunged into darkness broke his concentration, and he screamed as the sabre bit into his face. Half blind, he flung out his right hand to _push_ her away from him.

A strangled gurgling gasp reached his ears, the red lightsabre suddenly extinguished. Anakin lurched to his feet, blinking sharply to clear his vision – he still couldn't open his right eye fully – and saw Ventress writhing on the floor. A lightsabre wound through her stomach. Anakin looked down at his own hand, clenched tightly around the hilt of his shimmering blue blade. When he had tried to push Ventress away, he had inadvertently rammed his blade through her.

He felt only a grim satisfaction at the thought, seeing the Dark Jedi woman coiled up in agony on the bleak floor.

He walked deliberately towards her pathetic form, the agony of the wound over his eye and the sudden _absence_ of Obi-Wan making him lash out, kicking her onto her back. He smirked to see the thin tail of blood that trickled from her lips.

Pressing one boot lightly onto her stomach, over the perfectly burned circle, Anakin slowly leaned his weight forward, hearing Ventress' gasp of pain in response. "What have you done to my Master?" his voice was perfectly quiet, perfectly composed.

Ventress could feel the anxiety rolling off of him in waves. It made her laugh weakly.

"Your Master is already dead."

"You're _lying!_" Anakin shouted, pressing down with all his weight.

Ventress surged upwards with the Force, knocking him backwards onto the floor. Then, with a sinister smile that made Anakin's heart freeze, she sent another twinge through the Force. Anakin lunged forwards, but it hadn't been directed at him. He felt it impact on the main computer console, felt the ship shudder in response.

_"NO!" _

The stars spiralled towards them in long, white streaks of light, and then snapped into darkness as the ship made the jump to hyperspace.

* * *

1 _**Loz noy jitat** - A curse ("Medstar: Intermezzo," Star Wars Insider #83)._ What it MEANS exactly, I can't tell you. Feel free to invent something! 

Sorry I kept you all waiting so long for this one... only to give you another cliff hangar! I know, I'm just as Sithly as Dooku sometimes! Please leave me a review - they help fuel the imagination for writing more chapters! The next one will be 99 percentOBI!

Xtine


	7. Broken Inside

**A/N: **I'm sorry that this took so very, very long to get to you all! Writers block to the MAX has been plaguing me. But it's done now, with chapter 7 well on its way! Thank you to everyone who reviewed me; I will do my individual replys and thank-yous starting again in the next chapter. At the moment, all I want to do is get this posted!

But of course, there is one person who I must mention every time! TEMPLE MISTRESS! Fresh from your first (brilliant) comedic fic -- everybody go read it NOW! -- and I give you a load of angst to beta. Thank you thank you thank you! This chapter is SO much the better for all your hard work! I really really really appreciate it. Loves!

_**Chapter 6: Broken Inside**_

"_Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real."  
__Hannibal Lecter, Red Dragon, by Thomas Harris_

_------_

There were voices in the darkness, muted, muffled, unintelligible.

_"…midichlorians assimilating the thanatizine more swiftly than…."_

_"…no choice but to double the dosage…."_

Clearer, growing closer….

_"Sir, any higher a dose could cause lasting damage."_

_"Regrettable, I'm sure, but Master Kenobi won't be alive much longer."_

Blue eyes fluttered open, the world swimming in and out of focus.

Another sharp prick to the side of his neck, and everything spiralled into darkness once more.

----

Anakin's fingers flew over the console, turning the ship around, making the calculations for the jump to light speed. He allowed no extraneous thoughts in his mind – there was a goal to focus on. Take control of the ship. Get the coordinates for Veenat-III. Calculate the hyperspace jump. Rescue Obi-Wan.

Kill anyone who had dared to hurt his Master.

It was easy, when he thought about it like that. Step by step. Focused and unemotional, just how his Master had taught him to plan. Soon. He would be back to Obi-Wan soon.

"Artoo, do you have those coordinates for me?" he called back over his shoulder to where the astromech had plugged in to the main computer, keeping his voice level with difficulty. He wanted to scream, yell at the droid to _hurry, _Force-damn it.

The droid bleeped and tootled urgently in reply.

"Just look in the memory banks, the coordinates were sent by the Council with our mission objectives," Anakin said dismissively, flexing the fingers of his real hand.

Another beep.

Anakin swung around, eyes narrowed, to face the droid. "What do you mean, _deleted?_ It's in our last mission outline!"

The droid backed up slightly as though nervous, top whirling in a full circle in distress.

"_Gone?"_ Anakin was incredulous, "But how could the _whole thing_ be –" he trailed off, verifying R2's sweep of the data banks on his own console. The file was missing; all their past missions had been erased. No. It wasn't possible. No one had been on the ship since he and Obi-Wan had left….

Unless….

Anakin stiffened, jaw clenching tightly. "The droid ship," he hissed venomously, spinning on his heel and stalking over to where Asajj Ventress lay coiled on the floor. The Dark Jedi woman was still alive, though barely; Anakin could feel the elusive flicker of the Life Force within her. He had been content to ignore her for the past few minutes; after disarming her as a threat, she became of secondary importance to getting back to Obi-Wan. Now the fact that she was still alive galled him, her Life Force a flame that he wanted to grind out.

Sensing Anakin's proximity, Ventress opened her eyes into slits, gasping out a harsh chuckle. "Lost s-something, have you…?" she whispered, teeth clenched in pain.

Breathing hard, Anakin stared in absolute loathing down at her, finding his lightsabre in his hand and ignited without any conscious thought. Ventress didn't flinch as she gazed at the azure blade.

"You know what the coordinates of Veenat-III are," Anakin whispered, making the question into a statement. "Tell me how to get back there."

Ventress made no reply, her lips curling into a weak smile as her eyes drifted closed.

"TELL ME!" Anakin screamed, feeling his rage boiling over the boundaries of his tenuously-held restraint. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to tear this so-called _Dark Jedi_ woman limb from limb, to make her scream and beg for mercy, until she told him exactly what he wanted.

Instead she was making him sound like an emotional child.

Anakin took a slow, deep breath, kneeling down on the cold floor beside Ventress' prone body, setting the lightsabre to one side to grip her by the throat with his cybernetic hand. "Tell me." He shook her roughly to emphasize his words.

She smiled – _smiled! _– and shook her head slightly, her eyes thin, malicious slits. "Now you know what it's like, Jedi," she whispered.

Anakin could tell that there would be no getting the information out of her. She would die without ever letting her secret escape her lips – one last spiteful retaliation against the Jedi Order that she so despised. He was tempted to just toss her back down onto the floor, to let her writhe in agony for a few more painful minutes of life. He was tempted to drag her to the medical bay, heal her wounds, and then make her scream her life out once more. He wanted her to die, without the blessed release that death would bring.

Pulling her closer, Anakin pressed his other hand over her eyes, fingers spanning her temples. The physical contact made him feel ill, as though the evil in which she had submersed herself was somehow contagious. Taking a deep breath, he _shoved_ into her mind, breaking through the weakening barriers that she threw up against his invasion of her thoughts. He would find his answers, whether she wanted to give them to him or not. Distantly, he was aware of her writhing in agony, trying to twist away from the vice-like grip he had on her.

It almost made him smile.

Insidious darkness penetrated every corner of her mind, saturating his soul. It made him dizzy, nauseous, but he forced himself to dig further into her consciousness, deeper into the pit of her mind. Everywhere he turned there was only more hatred and lust for revenge against the Jedi.

Against Obi-Wan.

Ventress' anger was pulsing red around him, shot through with the black power of the Dark Side. But she was weakening; Anakin could feel her strength ebbing the more he exerted his will over hers.

There. A final barrier. Anakin slammed his mind against it, trying to find a crack, a chink in her armour that would let him through.

He reached out, and for a moment, there was a flash of memory – a younger Ventress, standing next to a tall man whose face was obscured in shadow. There was a sense of…of _security _there…something akin to happiness….

He froze for a moment, shocked to see a glowing blade in the man's hand. A lightsabre…he was a _Jedi?_

_(What in the Force?)_

But Ventress rallied against him, shoving him back away from that brief glimpse. Her fury seared at Anakin's mind, and he fought back, smothering her resistance, overpowering her easily.

_(You have no right!) _she screamed.

No, this wasn't right. But Anakin didn't care. He was only thinking about Obi-Wan. Ventress was an enemy, and therefore of _far_ less importance. Anakin stretched out his mind once more, ready to break through that last wall.

Too late. In that moment of stunned revelation at finding such a memory in the mind of filth like Ventress, she had wrapped the barrier in her Life Force. He couldn't destroy one without taking the other as well.

Failure.

_(You're right; you _have_ failed your precious Master. He will suffer and die, begging for his life, screaming out his last breath. I know… I've heard him plead before.)_

Tears blinded Anakin's vision as Ventress' mocking taunts summoned an image of Obi-Wan in that stinking cell on Rattatak before his eyes. The sound of his Master's nightmares echoed in his ears in tune with her contemptuous laughter.

With a strangled snarl, he clenched his right fist, hearing the _crunch_ of Ventress' trachea, imagining for a moment that he could _feel_ the sensation of her spine snapping beneath his metal fingers. Asajj went limp, her eyes glazed and dull, the flame that was her Life Force snuffed out in an instant.

With a cry, Anakin jumped back, letting her fall back to the floor. He stared in dull horror at his hand, encased in its leather glove. It was not the way of the Jedi to kill a defenceless being, even if they _were_ an enemy. Obi-Wan wouldn't have done it; he would have been merciful….

Stumbling backwards, he sank down into the co-pilot's chair… the chair that Obi-Wan had sat in for their journey here.

_Obi-Wan._

Anakin buried his face in his hands, trying to breathe deeply, trying to meditate, to release all his pent-up emotions into the Force the way he had been taught to do. He needed to centre himself; that was all. He just needed to _centre_ himself….

But somewhere, in some hidden corner of Anakin's mind, unacknowledged in the light of day, there was a deep, burning satisfaction at Ventress' end. She had hurt someone close to Anakin. She had paid with her life. That was the way things _should_ be.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin blocked out those violent thoughts, trying to push back the blackness that had surfaced in his mind…but he could still hear Ventress' laughter, could still feel the ease with which he had snapped her throat. The purring, rumbling satiation deep in his soul that was still rejoicing at her demise.

There was no way to find his centre; not here, not now. Obi-Wan was his centre, his focal point. Obi-Wan was the one that gave him balance.

There were tears pricking at his eyes, tears that he cuffed away roughly with the back of his hand. There wasn't any time for indulging in self-pity; not now. He had a job to do.

"Can you calculate our current location, R2?" He asked, forcing his voice to calmness. He would contact the Jedi Temple, get the coordinates once again, and get back to Obi-Wan. A few more hours, that was all it would take.

Just a few more hours.

_(I'm coming, Master. Just hold on. Please hold on…)_

----

Dooku observed the prone figure of the captive Jedi Knight coldly. The thanatizine seemed to be working properly this time around; foolish of him to not take into account the power of the Force in this Knight. Of course, it would cause permanent damage – a dosage that high would kill the average sentient. So long as Kenobi stayed alive long enough for Skywalker to arrive, it wouldn't pose a problem.

Thanatizine. What a brilliant discovery that had been. The compound was found in all field medkits, as it was used to put terminally ill patients into stasis until better medical facilities could be found. All nervous system processes were shut down by the drug, heart rate dropped to less than a beat a minute, and all sensory perceptions were blocked. It was as though the body was frozen in time, while the mind segued into a dream-like state.

Of course, it wouldn't do at all to have Kenobi completely unconscious, lost in pleasant dreams. Dooku snapped his fingers irritably. Instantly, one of the Veenatian scientists whose facility had been commandeered scurried forwards, placing a thin strip of metal over the unconscious Jedi's temples. The computers embedded in the device simultaneously blocked Kenobi's Force-signature, while stimulating the brain with electrical impulses to prevent it from slipping into a sleep pattern.

Master Kenobi would be fully awake, but unable to see, hear, smell, speak, or move. Trapped alive in a body that was, to all intents and purposes, a corpse; blind to even the Force.

Dooku smiled thinly, wondering how long it would take before the Jedi's mind snapped, deprived as it was of all sensory input. He would take great delight in speeding the process along.

A sudden absence in the Force made him snarl slightly, turning away from Kenobi to stride down the narrow corridor. Veenatians scurried out of his way, trying to make themselves unobtrusive. They were precipitant creatures; very much aware of Dooku's murderous mood. It was almost a pity – he would have loved an excuse to exercise his power over the inferior beings, if only to have some outlet for his frustration.

Ventress. His protégée was dead; he had felt the dissipation of her Life-Signature into the Force. What in the Sith had the stupid woman been up to? There was no doubt in his mind that her death had been caused by her own arrogance, that ridiculous vendetta she had always held against Kenobi. Ventress always had been too emotional. Dooku just hoped she hadn't placed the whole operation in jeopardy; Darth Sidious did not take failure well.

Stepping outside the low, squat building, Dooku tilted his head back to stare contemplatively at the darkening sky. One by one, constellations appeared, peppering heavens with their ethereal light.

_(Come, Master Skywalker,) _he thought, allowing the words to resonate into the Force, letting them whisper against the young Jedi Knight's mind. _(I know you felt your Master's pain. Do you think yourself able to save him?) _

_(Do you dare to try?)_

His eyes narrowed slightly when there was no reply, his only concession to emotion, before he whirled and stalked back into the building.

It would be a shame to kill Master Kenobi without reason. Regrettably, the Jedi Knight – hardly more than a boy himself – was a means to an end. And that end was Skywalker. If there was another way…Dooku pushed the thought aside angrily. He was not attached to this Jedi, even if he _had_ been the Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn. That tenuous connection between them meant nothing. Whatever bound him to this boy meant only that he knew Kenobi's worst fears and greatest failings. Qui-Gon had enthused about his Padawan often enough that Dooku knew him almost as well as Jinn himself had.

He knew what memories to exploit.

Lessons in his own life had taught Dooku that trusting people lead only to betrayal. It was something that he had failed to impress on Qui-Gon. Now Kenobi would suffer as a result of Master Jinn's trust in an old mentor. That was the way of the universe.

Turning his dispassionate gaze on the discreetly hovering scientists, Count Dooku nodded fractionally. "Begin."

-----

_Darkness. He tried to open his eyes, tried to blink, to move. Nothing. No response. He was trapped somewhere, somehow. _

_Dooku!_

_Yes, they had fought… and Anakin. Oh _Force_, Anakin. His apprentice was… no. Anakin couldn't possibly be…. _

_He stretched out along the Force bond that bound them, seeking the comforting presence of his friend's light. _

_Nothing. Only darkness._

_Anakin was gone._

_He wanted to scream, but his body refused to answer him. He wanted to cry, but could feel no tears. Even as panic flooded his mind, freezing it in icy terror, he dimly realized that his heartbeat hadn't accelerated in response…._

(Master?)

_Anakin's voice. He tried to reach out, to answer his friend. He tried to speak, but there was no sound._

(Master! Master _please!_ I need you! Master!)

_Anakin! ANAKIN! he screamed in soundless response. Anakin, I'm here!_

_There was a horrendous scream of agony, beating against his skull from the inside out, tearing at his muffled senses. _

_Anakin! Anakin?_

_Before his blind eyes, he could see the scene over and over again. Anakin behind Dooku, ready to strike. The Count turning, striking._

_Anakin crumpled on the sand, clear blue eyes oddly blank, reflecting sightlessly the lavender sky above. _

_ANAKIN!_

_Again. _

_Anakin was in front of his eyes, so close, if he could just call out in time, then he would be able to save him. This time he could protect Anakin somehow. _

_Dooku spun, red blade flashing. _

_Anakin cried out in shock, falling to the ground. Dead eyes watching Obi-Wan. Accusing. _

_NO! ANAKIN!_

_Again._

-----

Dooku nodded shortly in satisfaction. Force-suggestion still worked on Kenobi, even if the Jedi himself could not reach out into the Force. If he closed his eyes, submerging himself in the crackling waves of the Dark Side, he could hear the Jedi Knight as though from a great distance.

He was screaming.

Dooku allowed himself one of his rare smiles. Lord Sidious would be _very_ pleased to hear this. Even if Kenobi died before his apprentice made it back, there was still hope of turning Skywalker. Projected images of his Master's demise could prove to be just as effective.

But, just to be certain, he would allow Kenobi to continue living… if only for a little while longer. There was no point in killing him outright when he could still potentially prove useful. Dooku wouldn't take any chances.

----

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry… please. Please stop. No more, please. _

_He was back on Melida/Daan. Telling Qui-Gon that he was leaving the Jedi Order permanently. Lashing out in anger at the man that he loved and respected above all others like a petulant child._

_He could see that hurt, that impossible betrayal in his beloved Master's eyes. Why had he hurt Qui-Gon so much? Had he honestly thought that he could do anything to save the younglings on the planet? How many lives had his arrogance destroyed?_

_I'm sorry…_

_"Sorry does not make the offence disappear." Mace lectured. "A Master depends on the loyalty of his Padawan. If that trust is broken, the bond shatters."_

_The bond shatters._

_How many lives have been destroyed by my arrogance?_

_Cerasi._

_No no no, he didn't want to remember her. No. Not Cerasi. _

_Please, no._

_He had watched her die in his arms. Had tried to save her planet only to add to its division. A division that had culminated in her death… all his fault._

_He was there again. Holding that fragile body in his arms as the life in her eyes had dimmed slowly. Her body growing cold and stiff in his trembling arms. _

_Her voice whispered in his deaf ears._

(Obi-Wan…)

_Cerasi…. _

(You watched me die, Obi-Wan. How could you do that? You were a Jedi. You were supposed to save us.)

_I'm…I'm sorry. I tried. I tried, Cerasi, oh Force, _please_ believe me…._

(Sorry does not make the offence disappear.)

_She was slipping away from him. He reached out to catch her hand, to pull her back. To beg for absolution of some sort. But he stumbled and fell, unable to bridge the gap that separated them._

_Cerasi!_

_Qui-Gon shook his head in disappointment, angry and hurt by his Padawan as Obi-Wan made his decision to leave the Jedi. The betrayal in those dark blue eyes cut deeply into Obi-Wan's soul, affirming the realization that he had lost something infinitely precious. He had lost Qui-Gon's esteem, had lost the comfortable closeness of their Master/Padawan bond. With one simple decision, all their trials together were reduced to naught. _

_Obi-Wan had failed his Master, time and time again. Melida/Daan had only been the first instance… there were many, many more. Obi-Wan had jeopardized their mission on Melida/Daan for his personal feelings. He had left the Jedi Order without a thought. He was the reason that they had been delayed in rescuing Master Tahl…making him the cause of her death. The death of the woman that his Master loved._

_It was no wonder that to Qui-Gon's eyes he was worth less than nothing. Where once amused affection had shone in his Master's countenance, now there was only bitterness and regret. _

_Regret for ever having taken Obi-Wan on as a Padawan._

_No wonder he had wanted to train Anakin instead; his first Padawan had been nothing but a disappointment. A failure who was too long in the rank of apprentice, unable to push past the trials to become a Knight. _

_An embarrassment. _

_The images shifted again, moving from one memory to the next, meticulous and inexorable. _

Bruck. _His mind whispered to him. _Remember Bruck? Remember how you killed him?

_No. No. He tried to block out the images, to discipline his thoughts._

_For a second it worked. For a moment, the voices disappeared, leaving him trapped alone in the darkness, without sight, sound, or touch. Trapped inside his own mind, one way or another, in blindness and silence, or wrapped in the pain of old memories. _

_Perhaps it was a fitting retribution. _

_Slipping back down into delirium, following the taunting, teasing voices, Obi-Wan let go of that last tenuous hold on what was real. Severed the last tie that bound him to life, let go of any vestiges of resistance, and let his consciousness tumble downwards, falling away from sanity until it hit rock bottom._

_And shattered. _

_The pain that screamed through him seemed muted, far away…as though it was happening to someone else. Someone he had been close to, once upon a time. The fragments of his consciousness kept the name from him. _

_There was only the voice in his mind._

_His own voice._

Remember Bruck?

_Yes. Yes he remembered. How could he forget the rival Padawan that he had killed? _

_He was back in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, losing his composure, attacking in anger. Watching Bruck fall, sprawling onto the grass, his neck broken. _

"_No. I did it for Bant. She would have died…"_

_The voice was weak, so weak. Barely a whisper to his deaf ears. It confused Obi-Wan, trying to pull him out of the memory, back into darkness, back into living death. He struggled against that impulse, shoving that rational voice away from him, crying out as the broken edges of his mind cut at him._

_And he was falling again. Fragmented memories surrounded him, drawing him deeper and deeper into himself. _

_Far, far away…._

_I'm sorry… I'm sorry…._

---

Dooku startled at the ripples that spread out into the Force, with Kenobi at the epicentre. Interesting. He had never expected that the Jedi would willingly sever his connection to the Force… in a way, it was almost disappointing; he had expected Kenobi to hold on to his sanity for a little while longer.

Interesting.

He didn't smile, didn't make any outward indication that he was pleased; Dooku was above such petty exclamations of victory. But there was no doubt now that Skywalker would return to the planet, one way or another. It would take time, of course, but Skywalker was far too sensitive not to have felt the after-effects of Kenobi's mind shattering.

What apprentice wouldn't notice when their training bond was violently severed?

Interesting, indeed.

_End Chapter 6_

* * *

The story of Cerasi is from the Jedi Apprentice series, I believe it's books 5 and 6? I don't actually own those ones... yet. (evil smile) and the tale of Bruck and how _he_ died is in book 7. We all know, of course, that Obi-Wan didn't _really_ murder him.. he's _Obi-Wan!_ But he was indeed responsible for Bruck's death. Hence the extreme guilting... oh, he's a fun character to mess with...

Ahem.

Reviews are LOVE, and I think thatmost of you are romantics, right? Share the LOVE! Review! (smile)

Xtine the Pirate!


	8. Darkness

**A/n: These chapters (6-8) were so twistedly fun to write... in the space of 24 hours. I want to say right off the bat that this burst of creativity couldn't have come without the weekend from HELL and the wonderful loving attention of my darling Beta! Temple Mistress, so thrilled that you managed to kick Qui's ass. Sorry that I was hogging the muses!**

**Replys!**

**LilacPixie: **I'm thrilled that you're enjoying the story so much! Don't worry, Anakin _will_ find Obi-Wan... but as an angsty writer by profession, it will take more than one chapter for that reunion to occur! And then even more angsty situations will undoubtedly manifest themselves, because I _loooove_ angst! LOL! Glad that you like it so far, hope you enjoy the newest chapter!

**Alchemy: **I _Knew_ something had to be wrong when I didn't get an immediate review from my alchemy! I was totally pulling an Obi, thinking that you didn't like it! Heh, so it ae your review? That's happened to me before... suckage! I'm glad that you liked Obi-Wan's scars and inner demons, because of _course_ I had to delve back into that in this chaper. Obi-angst is my drug... glad that you liked the last chapter, and can't wait to hear what you think of this one!

**White Destiny:** (BIIIIIIG Force-hugs!) THANK YOU! I was worried that Anakin's dabbling in the dark side would come across as a little too twisted! Glad that he still has supporters, even when he shows his Sithly side! It's all for Obi-Wan's sake, anyways! Well, if you liked that, then you'll like Angry Anakin (it deserves capitalization...) in Chapter 8! But _this _is chapter 7... so I hope that Tragic Anakin will tide you over!

**Leah Devon:** There is NO greater compliment in my mind than someone telling me that something I wrote made them cry. That really means a lot, to know that _I_ can inspire such emotions with my fic-ly endeavors! Thank you SO much! And, yes, I hope that this chapter breaks your heart as well! I'm a Sith, what can I say?

**LeaNikkaya**: Thank you, glad you liked it!

**DarkGirl5: **(grin) I like Bad too! Sithly Anakin is FUN to write! Happy Belated Birthday, by the way... you know, I deliberately _planned_ to post chapter 6 for your occasion. Heh heh heh... no... I'm lying. And you said you can't wait for Anakin Angst? WELL HERE YOU GO! Hope that you love it, you wonderful sick puppy! And if you were waiting for Anakin's reaction to Obi-Wan;s little SNAP... well, just wait a few more chapters until he has to deal with SNAPPED Obi-Wan. Oh. Was that a plot spolier? (smacks self) Bad Xtine...

**Temple Mistress: FUCKING BRILLIANT. **That's all I can say. I dedicate this, your favourite chapter thus far, to YOU! For betaing and dealing with a teenaged drama queen in the midst of drama paper meltdown and broken phone lines. You are MY Luminara... although you can send me huggles any time you want, unike to Anakin, right? LOL. LOVE you, darling!**

* * *

****Chapter 7: Darkness**

"_Lost in the darkness, silence surrounds you.  
__Once, there was morning… now, endless night."  
from __Jekyll and Hyde. _

_-----_

_No. _

_No._

_NO._

_He could feel tears on his cheeks. Tears that he knew he wasn't crying. _

_He didn't want to be here again. Never again._

_Qui-Gon. _

_Oh _Force_, Qui-Gon! _

_Those proud features, so composed in death, the antithesis of his Padawan's hysteria as Obi-Wan cradled his Master's body in his arms. The knowledge that he had failed, failed utterly. He had been unable to protect yet another person that was close to him. The one person who meant the _galaxy_ to him._

_Dead._

_He was so alone. All alone. _

_NO!_

_The scream fell soundless into the darkness that crushed him, surrounding him with loneliness and despair until he couldn't breathe. Mocking echoes coming back to ring in his ears. _

Failure. Murderer. Traitor. You let Qui-Gon die. You let him face the Sith alone. You betrayed him all over again.

_Melida/Daan._

_No, no…._

_The Room of a Thousand Fountains._

_No, no, _please.

_Naboo._

_Qui-Gon's gleaming eyes dimmed in death, the lightsabre wound a perfect circle in his chest. Brilliant symmetry. _

_No. No. No._

_He tried to run away, tried to escape, reaching back upwards into the darkness that bound his body. Not this. Anything but this. _

_But there was no exit. Wherever he turned, he could see the crimson blade of the Sith, piercing his Master's heart. _

_Qui-Gon, Master, forgive me, please. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. _Please.

_There was no answer. He hadn't expected one; trapped inside this prison of his mind, there was only his despair to keep him company – his despair and the phantoms of his past. _

_Cerasi._

Why did you fail me, Obi-Wan? I thought we were friends….

_Bruck._

You call yourself a Jedi? You're a murderer, _Oafy_-Wan. I hate you. I _hate_ you.

_Mace Windu._

Sorry does not make the offence disappear.

_Siri. Oh, Force, Siri…._

Is this what love is? Then maybe I'm not cut out for it after all…we have to forget this ever happened.

_Even the passage of decades hadn't made that hurt any less. _

For star's sake, Obi-Wan, I'm dying. Do you have to interrupt me now?

_What was living for, when everyone he had ever loved was dead?_

_Qui-Gon._

_The spectre didn't speak; only shook his regal head in disappointment. That hurt more than all the rest._

_Except…._

_Anakin._

_His Padawan, his partner, his friend and confidante. His brother. Standing before him with blank blue eyes, a hole burned through his heart. _

You failed me, Master. I thought you would save me…what did I do wrong?

_Anakin… Anakin…. He tried to reach out through their Force bond, but it was gone, snapped, broken beyond repair. Only Anakin's death could cause that. His heart ached, tears blinding his mind's eye. _

_The dead Jedi laughed bitterly. _

You never could save anyone, could you? Everyone who gets close to you dies. You _let_ them die. Murderer.

_All the faces, surrounding him, pressing in, suffocating him….Cerasi, Siri, Bruck, Qui-Gon… Anakin._

Murderer. Murderer.

_He screamed, trying to drown them out. A scream that went on and on. _

Murderer, murderer, _murderer!_

_He beat his hands against the prison of darkness, trying to break through, to break out. Pounding against the walls until his hands were torn and bloody, still screaming. Pleading, begging the ethereal spirits. _

_Let me go, please let me go. No more, please! _Please!_ Stop, please, stop, stop…._

----

Anakin tried to calm his heart as the communications link blurred with static and reformed. He was still too far away from Coruscant for a clear message to be carried across. He just had to believe that everything would be all right. Everything would be fine.

He bowed his head in deference as the image of Yoda shimmered and coalesced.

"Master…" Anakin's voice trembled slightly and he forced it to stillness. If he confessed all that had come to pass on the disastrous mission, not only would he have to endure another blistering lecture on his reckless actions from Master Windu, but the Council would undoubtedly have him return to the Temple. Someone else would be sent to rescue Obi-Wan.

That option was unacceptable.

"Troubled you are, young Skywalker?"

Anakin swallowed heavily. It was always so hard to lie to Master Yoda…. Looking up to meet the venerable Jedi's eyes, he forced a thin smile. "Master Yoda, our ship came under attack while we were making our way to the Veenat-III as per our mission orders. The droid ships damaged the main computers, and we are currently adrift somewhere along the Outer Rim. Could you re-transmit the coordinates for the planet? I have R2 fixing the navigational drive right now…" he trailed off as Yoda's ears pointed sharply forwards.

"More to this than what you're telling me, there is. See through you, I do. Felt Count Dooku's and Obi-Wan's battle, we all did."

Anakin's jaw tightened. "I didn't lie about the attack on our ship. I _need_ the coordinates for the planet, Master."

"Your mission, completed it is. To the Temple, return you must."

"No!" Anakin shouted, hands balled into fists at his sides. "That is unacceptable!"

A new face moved into the holocommunicator's window. Anakin bit back a scream of frustration. Mace Windu.

"You will obey the will of the Council, Skywalker." Anakin _hated_ how Master Windu addressed him, as though he were still a youngling in the Temple. "If there has been trouble, the Council will decide how to deal with it. For that, we will need your report."

_No_. No, he _wouldn't_ do it. Not when Obi-Wan needed him. It didn't matter how long it took him to find the fucking place, he would search every planet in the galaxy to find his Master. Sith _damn_ the Council.

…. But how many months, how many _years_ would it take to get back to Veenat-III without any knowledge of where to start? If he returned, the Council could mount an expedition of its own. Even if Anakin didn't get to be a part of it, wouldn't that be better than his being on his own and arriving too late?

He bowed his head, defeated. "I will return to –"

He didn't get to finish the sentence.

Anakin's back arched suddenly, a violent scream tearing loose from his throat. Screaming, blinding pain, more intense than a lightsabre wound through the heart. There was a sensation of something shattering, something irretrievable being severed. The backlash tore through his mind, shredding all conscious thought.

Darkness blossomed behind Anakin's eyes, and his body crumpled to the deck, his head striking the floor with a sickening _crack_. Blood stained the floor, a thin trickle of crimson from his ears and lips, sliding over the durasteel to mingle with Ventress' own, his body sprawled in an echo of her still form.

-----

Cool hands on his forehead drew him out of the darkness, leading him slowly back into the light of day.

Anakin flinched as he opened his eyes to the assault of intensely white lights. His head felt as though it had been crammed full of duracrete, a heavy, pounding ache that throbbed at his temples. And his heart….

Anakin sat up gingerly, pressing one hand over his chest as he leaned forward. Sith, he felt like he was going to be sick. It was as though his heart had been forcibly _ripped_ from his body, leaving only a gapingly blank hole inside of him. A dull ache that resounded throughout his entire body.

"You're awake."

The voice was matter of fact, and _female_, which startled him. Obi-Wan had always been the one to say that whenever Anakin's exploits had landed him in the Healer's Wing of the Jedi Temple. It was supposed to be _Obi-Wan_ who was there when he woke up….

The memories came back in a rush.

Veenat-III.

Obi-Wan crashing.

Ventress….

Obi-Wan in pain –

He was halfway out of the bed, before those same cool hands captured him and firmly pushed him back down. Dimly, he realized that he was shouting something, but he couldn't stop, not until one hand pressed tightly over his mouth to muffle the words.

A moment of darkness and blurred lines as the room spun around him, then his head was resting on the pillow once more, and he was staring up at those bright, bright lights once again.

Luminara bent over him, her intense blue eyes narrowed with concern. "You haven't recovered yet, Anakin. Lie still, or else you'll be in here for another week."

Anakin's mind whirled, trying to order his thoughts. Everything was strangely scattered, difficult to piece together.

"H-How…?" he croaked out. _A week? But that was impossible. He had been on the bridge, that was right… and then, yes, he had contacted the Council. And he had argued with Master Windu, and then…. And then…._

"You owe your life to your little astromech," Luminara continued, gently and impersonally running her fingers over Anakin's forehead and through his hair, eyes half-closed as she concentrated on the Force-healing. "He programmed the Temple coordinates into your ship's computer to bring you home. After you collapsed when talking to Master Yoda, we had no way of finding you…your Force-Signature was too weak. He saved your life."

"And… and Obi-Wan?"

Luminara's hand stilled on his hair for a second, enough to make his stomach clench in anticipation of her news.

"You were the only one on board the ship, Anakin. You…and a woman who was beyond my skills to save." She made the statement a question, gently seeking any more information.

Anakin pushed her away, sitting up again. "No! He was on the _planet!_ Has the Council mounted a rescue mission? Isn't he back already?" _Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan…._

Luminara captured his hands in her own, pressing them tightly together as she stared at him with deepest sympathy.

"No…" he whispered. "He's not dead. Don't tell me that he's dead." _Please, oh Force, no…._

"Anakin, the Jedi Council didn't know what had happened to the two of you until you made contact… and even then, you were cut off before they could learn anything. They have been waiting on your report."

"So they just left him out there for a fucking _week_? Mother_fuckers!_" Anakin was screaming now, pushing Luminara away and leaping from the bed, staggering slightly as his knees threatened to give out. Recklessly, he summoned up all of his reserves of strength, reaching deep into the Force and pouring that energy into his weakened body. "He _needs_ me, don't you understand? He's been captured by Dooku… and… and…" he pressed one hand over his face as the tears started, sinking down slowly to the floor.

_And it's my fault. I left him there. If only I had gone to save him right away, if I hadn't tried to play at being the _fucking_ perfect Jedi for once. Oh Force, _Obi-Wan!

Luminara perched on the end of the bed in silence, hearing Anakin's thoughts as clearly as though he had screamed them aloud as well. She wanted to pull him into her arms, to stroke his hair and comfort him, but she knew that any such advances would be met with open hostility. She had known Obi-Wan for years, since he had been the Padawan, and saw in this young Knight much of the same characteristics. Anakin was too like his Master. They were both damnably proud, and though it tore at her to see it, they would allow their hearts to be splintered into irreparable fragments before they allowed themselves any sympathy. Seeing Anakin like this, wild, angry, close to tears, she remembered Obi-Wan in the aftermath of Qui-Gon's death; so full of self-loathing and guilt.

So instead of reaching out to him, Luminara clenched her hands tightly against the rumpled sheets on the small bed. When she spoke, she pitched her voice to sound stern, although she too wanted to cry. Obi-Wan had been her dearest companion in the Order, a truly noble Jedi and a loyal friend; qualities that were becoming increasingly rare in an age of uncertainty and war. Obi-Wan was one of the few Jedi to whom she would entrust her life and, out of respect for his memory, she would treat Anakin in the manner that she had always dealt with Obi-Wan himself; perfect honesty.

As a Healer, that was not her natural inclination; she was supposed to ease suffering, to encourage hope when there was no more than the faintest whisper of its presence. But sometimes brutal truth was better than pretty lies that inspired false hope; if Anakin was as much like Obi-Wan as he seemed, then he was perceptive – he would know if he was being coddled.

"Anakin." He looked up at the sound of his name. "The only explanation I have for your injuries was the abrupt severance of your Force-bond with Obi-Wa – with Master Kenobi." Luminara swallowed thickly, forcing herself on. "The bond is usually severed after a Padawan becomes a Knight… but never violently. The backlash from it breaking…" she trailed off. "Anakin, a bond is only severed that violently when one of the two Jedi is killed." _Killed violently_, she had almost said, editing her words at the last minute. There was no need to torment Anakin any further; Obi-Wan's death would be hard enough for the young Knight to handle as it was.

She expected him to yell, to rage at her and destroy the room in his mad grief. She did not expect him to climb slowly to his feet, and stand – albeit unsteadily – to face her calmly.

She did not expect the quiet conviction in his voice when he spoke.

"You're wrong. He's not dead."

"Anakin – "

"He's _not _dead. I would know it if he were." Walking across the room on trembling legs, Anakin grabbed his robes and donned them with a meticulous care that spoke volumes as to how much pain he was in.

"Where are you going?" Luminara demanded, rising from her seat.

Anakin whirled on her immediately. "I'm going to make my report to the Council, and then I am going to find him." His eyes were dark with barely restrained fury.

Luminara was not intimidated. She had faced down Mace Windu in full roar, and this young Knight was _not_ going to browbeat her in _her_ wing of the Temple. "You are lucky to be _alive_ after the mental injuries you sustained. You shouldn't even be _walking_, much less swanning off –"

"But I _am_ walking," Anakin cut her off, "and that means I have a promise to keep. Excuse me." He brushed past her; shrugging off the hand she placed on his shoulder to restrain him.

Luminara sighed as she watched Anakin go, wincing as he staggered slightly with every step, all his fluid, cat-like grace robbed from his movements. The boy she had known had grown into a man all at once.

If only Obi-Wan could see him now….

Setting aside her momentary sentimentality, Luminara rose to her feet and went about her duties as a Healer, comforting, soothing, or even just _listening_ to the injured Jedi who came to her for solace. But her mind wasn't on the tasks at hand. It was far away… in the Council room, where she knew another conflict as intense and violent as the Clone Wars themselves was about to erupt…. And farther still, away on the Sith-cursed planet where her long-time friend had been killed.

_Obi-Wan…._

After a few hours, Luminara had to call Barriss in to take over. She needed to rest, that was all. Her eyes kept tearing up, her hands shaking… hardly appropriate behaviour for a Healer. She just needed to rest. A few hours sleep would do her a galaxy of good; there would undoubtedly be plenty of injuries to deal with once Anakin learned of the Council's decision…..

END CHAPTER

* * *

YAY! More Obi-torture! Sithly Xtine's fave past time... along with Hot Jedi Smut. Ahem. But I promise that Chapter 8 will be up and running some time next week, same Sith time, same Sith Channel! (er, does anyone _else_ remember that from the cheesy old Batman TV series? Please? Somebody?) 

(Jedi mind trick wave) You _will_ leave Xtine a review. If you do, you'll make Obi-Wan happy! Poor guy, he _needs_ some happiness in his life right now, don't you think?

The Force be with you ALL#

XTINE!

# _'All' _for the given quantity of people who review. Xtinethepirate is not responsible for any mishaps that could be associated with the Force, such as heat rashes from tight black leather, cutting of one's own hand with a lightsabre, or turning to the Dark Side. The author makes no claims that the Force will acutally be _with_ someone who leaves a review, only that it is a distinct possibility. Copyright 2005, all rights reserved.


	9. It Comes to This

A/N: Chapter 8 is here! Celebration! This is my beta's fave chapter (smiles and waves to Temple Mistress) so I hope that the rest of you guys enjoy it as well!

**Liana**: Glad that you liked the forshadowing of what was going to happen when Anakin reached the Council. Now you get to see it first hand! Heh heh heh. Enjoy the chapter, darling, hope you dont have too much work so that you can review right away!

**Lea**: Of course the mind trick worked. You reviewed, didn't you? LOL.

**Monchy**: I will forever be squee when I get a review from you! Glad that you like how the story's progressing, but slitting your wrists is NOT allowed... because then where would I get_ my_ Star Wars fix, hmmm? We _do_ have to make GL change the story and have Anakin and Obi-Wan end up together... of course, then what would we all write? Interestng, interesting. But I am THRILLED that you like it! Enjoy the next chapter... where Anakin isn't _quite_ so mature.

**Alchemy**: Well, now you'll get to see the Council's decision... and their reasoning for it. Not that Anakin will see their point, but what would be the fun in that? Yes, they probably do need therapy... heh, just wait until you see what happens _after_ Obi-Wan gets back! (rubs hands together, cackling evilly)

**Leah**: Squee! What a lovely review! I'm glad that the tension is building and keeping you hooked! I hope this chapter is a good pay-off! He'll be off to get his Obi-Wan back soon... (looks at unfinished chapter 9 on computer and winces) Soon... I hope. Thank you VERY much for your kind review, and I hope you like this newest installment!

**Dark Girl**: Your review made me laugh, especially the Wizard of Oz reference. Would that be making Anakin into Dorothy? Now _there's_ a scary thought... I'm glad that Anakin was the tragic character in the last chapter... that's what I was really going for, since we're going to be catching up on the Obi-Angst later on. But if Anakin made you feel wah in the last chapter... well I hope that this one provokes some major sniffles!

**White Destiny:** Thank you for such a great review! Glad to see that my little fic is causing such intense reactions! (hugs). Yes, I am making it a litttttle bit harder with every chapter for Anakin to get to Obi-Wan... but hopefully the slight resolution in this one will make that all better! Of _course_ they need to get back together... if only so that I can invent more obstacles to throw in their way! (cough cough). Awww.. your heart wants to curl into a ball and cry? Sniffles! HAHAH! That makes my Sithly side do a victory dance! YAY! But btw, what does _**ALIRHLIEJret!**_ mean?

**Temple Mistress!** My one and only. I dedicate all smells and braid love in this chapter to you! Thank you for letting me make a good chapter great... and beyond great, into my best one yet! It wouldn't have happened without your wonderful hard work! Missing you right now, but muchos love for today! And EVERY day! (HUGS)

On to the chapter...

* * *

**Chapter 8: It Comes to This.**

_"Impartiality is a pompous name for indifference, which is an elegant name for ignorance."_

_- G.K. Chesterton_

Anakin tried to relax, hands clenching and unclenching nervously at his sides. He felt as though he was on display, standing before the intolerable scrutiny of the Masters of the Jedi Council. His head still ached abominably, a pain compounded by the penetrating stare of Mace Windu. He had made his report, as brief as he could be without eliminating any important details.

Well, not _many_ important details.

Mace leaned forward, resting his arms loosely on his knees. "One thing that I don't understand is why Obi-Wan crashed on this planet. He's a more cautious pilot than _you_ are, Skywalker."

Oh those accusing eyes. Anakin felt anger begin to stir in his heart, and shoved it aside quickly. He had glossed over his own recklessness that had lead to this situation; not to discredit Obi-Wan, but because Anakin knew that the Council's decision would be influenced by his prior actions. They would hardly let Anakin lead the rescue mission if they found out that the reason such an endeavour was required was because of him.

"I _am_ the better pilot of the two of us, Master," he said quietly, forcing himself to sound respectful. "Master Kenobi was never comfortable with flying."

Mace's eyebrows raised slowly, his disbelief plain as he slowly leaned back in his seat. "I_ see_."

_Oh hurry _up!Anakin wanted to shout at them, stir these sedentary old farts into some kind of action. They had already wasted an entire _week_. Force only knew what Obi-Wan was enduring, waiting for Anakin to find him. Because Anakin _always_ rescued Obi-Wan. That was their deal, their pact. To always look out for each other.

And here was Mace Windu, meticulously pouring over every single _fucking_ detail of the disaster. Anakin wanted to hit him, wanted to fling the arrogant _bastard_ to the floor and just _hit_ him again and again, until Mace hurt as much as _he_ did. Maybe_ that_ would take that condescending frown off Windu's face. And cause seven kinds of apoplectic fit among the other Council Members, of course, but Sith knew the pedantic old Jedi could use something to shake them out of their placidity.

Anakin swallowed the impulse with difficulty, forcing himself to look politely attentive instead.

"The woman that we found aboard your ship," now it was Ki-Adi-Mundi who was delving into irrelevancies, "she was wounded by a lightsabre blow. Who was she?"

Anakin exhaled slowly, forcing the tenseness from his shoulders. "Her name was Asajj Ventress. She was trained in the Jedi arts by Count Dooku, and helped him to plant this trap for us on Veenat-III. She was the one who sent out the distress signal." _By the _stars_! Hurry up!_

"You are _sure_ of this, young one?"

_Oh, for Sith's sake…._

Anakin's voice was flat. "Yes."

"Ventress, _Ventress…_" Ki-Adi-Mundi looked from one Jedi Master to the next. "That name sounds familiar to me…."

Anakin choked back a violent retort, keeping his face perfectly impassive as anger seethed and roiled beneath the surface. "She was the one who captured Obi-Wan on Jabiim. She tortured him for_ months_ because the _Council _believed he was _dead._" He couldn't keep the bitterness that he felt from tainting the last words.

Mace Windu scowled impressively. "Your…_personal…_feelings about this Ventress woman were no reason to kill her. We could have learned much about Dooku's intentions from her."

"I didn't kill her for what she did to Obi-Wan," _Liar. You did, you _did_, and you _enjoyed_ it. And you would kill her again in a heartbeat._ "She attacked me, and I defended myself. I was unable to do so without striking to kill… she was an impressive fighter." He could still feel the fragile bones of her neck snapping under the pressure of his hand, could still remember the warmth of satisfaction that had suffused his body with her death. A cold feeling snaked through his stomach at the memory, curling like ice around the base of his spine at the utter _wrongness_ of his initial, gleeful reaction to Ventress' death. It was disturbing to him but, more than that, Anakin was terrified that the Council would somehow divine these secret, guilty thoughts. He didn't want to prove Mace right about him, to reveal that he was indeed unfit to be a Jedi.

"Worrying, this is," Yoda said slowly, nodding his head once. "If training new apprentices Dooku is, stronger the Dark Side will become. To lose a Jedi such as Obi-Wan Kenobi, a great tragedy is."

Anakin was certain he had misheard the ancient Jedi. "Forgive me, Master, but there is still hope for Obi-Wan. I _can _find him. We haven't _lost_ him…" Anakin folded his arms into his sleeves as he spoke, gripping his forearms tightly to not betray the nervousness he felt. "Master Kenobi survived three months on Rattatak, there's no reason to assume that he's dead after only a _week_ –"

Yoda drew himself up to his full diminutive height. "Reason to think this, there _is._ Severed, your training bond has been, and violent it was. Occurs, such an event does, only when killed --"

"_He's not dead!_"

Silence fell heavily over the chamber, the Jedi masters all glaring in anger at the upstart _boy_ who dared to yell over Master Yoda.

Anakin could feel himself trembling with the effort of constraining his emotions, with fighting back the suffocating pain in his temples and heart. "Masters… forgive me…I…."

"Too soon leaving the Healer's Wing, you were," Yoda said quietly, nodding his head slowly. "Return there, you should."

"No!" Anakin protested. "No, Master Yoda, I… I'm fine."

"Many things you are, young Skywalker. _Fine_, one of them is_ not._"

"I can _feel_ that Obi-Wan still alive, Master, even though our Force-bond has been broken," Anakin insisted, deciding that it was better to ignore that last comment. "If you don't want me to lead the rescue mission, I…" he took a deep breath, steeling himself, "I will understand and respect that decision."

There was a terrible pause. Mace slowly turned to look at Yoda, raising his eyebrows in a mute question. Yoda's only reply was to close his eyes.

Even that brief exchange spoke volumes to Anakin. He and Obi-Wan had their own non-verbal ways of communicating, of reading each other's moods; it was a skill that came through long familiarity. He could read the unspoken words plainly in the pitying expressions of the Jedi Masters.

"You're not sending anyone, are you?" he asked dully, feeling as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs.

Mace sighed heavily. "It is a regrettable loss –"

"A _regrettable loss? _What in the _Sith_ is that supposed to mean? Obi-Wan is your best Knight!"

Mace scowled, leaning forwards in his chair to glower at Anakin. "_Master Kenobi_ would agree with our decision. We've lost too many Jedi to these Clone Wars already."

"So you'll just allow another one to be slaughtered?"

The other Jedi Masters shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but Anakin only had eyes for Mace Windu. The older Jedi's jaw clenched visibly, as though holding back his fury at being contradicted.

"_If_ Obi-Wan is still alive, then he is only being used as bait to trap another Jedi. We have to accept the loss of Obi-Wan if it means that no additional Jedi will be captured. That is what he would tell you as well, Skywalker."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what he would think!" Anakin spat, striding forwards towards Mace. The taller Jedi man stood, trying to stare Anakin down. "You _bastard_. You're going to just let him _die?_ After all that he's done for this Council, for this _Order_, you're going to leave him? What the _fuck_ is _wrong _with you!" he spun in a circle, glaring wildly at the other, silent, Jedi.

Not one of them would meet his eyes. Cowardly bastards.

"Unseemly, this anger is," Yoda spoke softly, but his voice was stern. "Obi-Wan's Padawan, you are no longer. Concerns you not, his fate does."

"I owe him _everything,_" Anakin snapped, "that's not a debt I immediately forgot when I became a Knight. Obi-Wan is my friend and my partner, so if you won't go to save him, I _will."_

"You will be expelled from the Order!" Mace shouted, a vein bulging out on his forehead. "This Council isn't designed to pander to your whims, Skywalker. You will behave like a Jedi, or you will cease to be one."

Anakin stared at him for a long, slow moment. The room seemed to hold its breath.

"Fine." Anakin said simply. Never once breaking eye-contact with Mace, he shrugged out of his long black robe and threw it at the Jedi Master's feet. The hilt of his lightsabre followed. "If the Jedi Order has come to _this_, then maybe I won't be a Jedi any more. Fuck the lot of you."

Yoda's ears rose above his head sharply. "The Dark Side I sense in you, young Skywalker. To a dark place, this emotion leads."

"Well maybe the Sith got it right. Some things are absolute… and loyalty is one of them."

Ki-Adi-Mundi stood as well at that, outrage plain on his elongated features. "Don't be so hasty to dismiss the Jedi, Skywalker. Once you walk out that door, you won't be coming back."

Yoda shot a mildly disapproving look at the Jedi Master. "Make his own decisions, young Skywalker will." He turned to look at Anakin calmly. "Knows, Skywalker does, that he does this alone."

Mace's nostrils flared in anger at Yoda's implacable tone. "If I had had my way, you would never have been trained," he snapped, looking Anakin up and down in disgust. "Both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan wasted their time on you. We should have known that you weren't the Chosen One. You have been nothing but reckless from the moment –"

"Lecture him, do not, Master Windu," Yoda interrupted. "Not always so rational are you."

Mace subsided into sullen silence, but his eyes still sparked with anger. Anakin had wanted him to continue, had wanted an excuse to attack the bigger Jedi Master. This animosity between them had been building for a long time, the little sniping remarks, the disapproving glares, the insinuations that Anakin was _never_ going to be good enough. Although he never said it in so many words, Anakin knew that Mace still equated him with the death of Qui-Gon Jinn. The Jedi Master had never failed to draw unflattering comparisons between them, with the silent implication that it would have been better for the entire Order had _Anakin_ somehow been the one to die.

But the one thing that Anakin knew he would never – could _never_ – forgive was the casual way in which Mace had just dismissed Obi-Wan's life as being worth _nothing._ That alone was enough reason for Anakin to want to snatch up his fallen lightsabre, and drive it though the Jedi Master's stomach.

For years, he had restrained his animosity towards Master Windu, for Obi-Wan's sake rather than anything else. Obi-Wan respected Mace; he was friends with the older Jedi, and Anakin didn't want to disappoint his Master by picking a fight.

Now that Anakin was leaving the Jedi, there was nothing to stop him from lashing out…except…. Except that deliberately provoking Mace in this way would somehow be like admitting that his Master truly was dead.

And Anakin would not accept that.

Instead, he strode forwards until he was nose-to-nose with Mace Windu, staring into those furious black eyes, neither of them giving an inch in their silent battle of wills.

"Fuck. Your. Prophecy." Anakin hissed at him. "And fuck _you._"

Then spinning on his heel, he stalked from the circular room, hearing the heavy door _thud_ shut behind him. Past the point of no return. He hesitated for a moment, feeling strangely unbalanced without the weight of his lightsabre at his hip, without the comforting presence of Obi-Wan at his shoulder. The Temple seemed somehow… _empty_ without him there.

Anakin sighed heavily, trailing his fingers lightly along the wall as he walked slowly down the corridor. He tried to memorize every sight, every sunlit alcove that cast long bars of shadow and light on the creamy marble floors, the tactile sensation of the cool, smooth, stone under his fingertips, the hum of life that permeated the building, almost too quiet to be heard. All the things that made up this place that had been his home for thirteen years.

No longer. He would be expected to leave the apartments he shared with Obi-Wan, to move out of the Temple. Anakin paused suddenly as he realized that he had nowhere to go. Well, no… that wasn't exactly true. Padmé would want to take him in…but what would that do to her own reputation? Of course, they could finally make their marriage public, but somehow, that thought didn't fill him with joy as it should have. He loved Padmé. He should have been thrilled to be finally free of the oppressive rules of the Jedi Order, free to love her as she deserved to be loved.

He _should_ have been thrilled….

Anakin hadn't counted on how much of his identity was _determined_ by the fact that he was a Jedi. Now he felt adrift, exposed. The trappings of his life had been stripped away suddenly, and by his own hand. He didn't know who he was supposed to be without those constants in his life. The Jedi Order. Obi-Wan Kenobi…and Padmé.

_Padmé…._

Padmé had fallen in love with a Jedi Knight… would that change now that he was no one?

The apartments that he had shared with Obi-Wan for the past thirteen years seemed so lifeless, oppressive with silence. Anakin closed his eyes for a moment as he walked into Obi-Wan's room, breathing in deeply. He could still feel his Master's presence in the room, as though the few meagre possessions that Obi-Wan had collected in his lifetime still remembered and longed for their owner.

Even now, the data-pad lay forlorn on the bed from where Obi-Wan must have left it, so in a hurry had he been to leave for their last mission together. He had been grumbling about its absence ever since, and Anakin had delighted in teasing his Master about being absent-minded; something he so rarely had a chance to do. A faint smile curved his lips at the memory.

Anakin was glad the data-pad was still there; the Council wouldn't have known that Obi-Wan had forgotten it, and they would have transmitted the details of the mission to both it and the ship's main computer. Now Anakin wouldn't have to sneak into the Archives before Jocasta Nu found out he was no longer a Jedi and, as such, no longer permitted access to the files therein. Letting his hands glide over the glowing screen, he swiftly called up their last mission outline.

And sagged backwards in relief onto the bed.

The coordinates for the planet were there, sharp black words against the brilliant white of the screen. Anakin swiftly committed them to memory, just in case, and then let the data-pad fall softly to the carpeted floor. He had found the means to the end. Now, alone in the room of his former Master, he could finally let go of all the anguish that had been building inside of him. Feeling tears well up in his eyes, he slowly lay back onto the bed and, curling up into a tight ball, grabbed Obi-Wan's pillow. He clutched it tightly against his cheek, as though it was an anchor keeping him from being swept away. In a way, it was. As soundless sobs shook his entire body, Anakin hugged the small pillow tighter, clutching it with ferocious desperation.

_Master, Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I left you. Please hang on, I'm coming, I'm coming._

The pillow smelled like Obi-Wan, an elusive, fresh scent that reminded Anakin of the summer rains on Coruscant, mingled with something else, a musky, spicy fragrance that was utterly Obi-Wan. How many times had he crawled into this bed as a young Padawan, scared from his nightmares? How many times had Obi-Wan rolled out of bed in favour of his Padawan, tucking Anakin in with grudging affection before retiring to a chair? How many times had Anakin fallen back into sweet, undisturbed sleep with his face pressed against this very pillow?

How many nights, after Rattatak, had he awoken to the sound of his Master's screams, muffled against its fabric? Anakin wasn't the only one who was plagued with nightmares… but he had always had the option of seeking comfort from his Master. Obi-Wan, as the senior Jedi, had never allowed himself even that small comfort. How often had Obi-Wan cried into this pillow, when memories of his imprisonment came back to haunt him? Anakin didn't want to think of that, bitterly regretting every time he had decided to remain silent, to leave Obi-Wan alone with his fears.

Now Obi-Wan was with Dooku, who had depths of cruelty that Ventress didn't even approach.

What manner of nightmare was he living through right now?

_Master, please. _Please_ hang on. I'm not going to leave you, Master. I'm coming. _

He tried to send the thoughts out along their training bond, only to smother a scream against the fabric of the pillow as white-hot agony burned through his mind. It terrified him, this inability to feel Obi-Wan's presence. They were closer than most teams in the Temple, in dint of their long-standing relationship – or _'thirteen years of hell'_, as Obi-Wan had taken to calling it, lips quirked into a smile to show Anakin that he was _mostly_ kidding. They had been separated before, sometimes beyond the reach of their connection, but that had been a muffled feeling, not this raw, aching wound in his mind.

Not this leaden weight in his heart.

Sitting up, still sniffling, Anakin cast around for something – _anything! _– that he could do to somehow reconnect him to Obi-Wan. Something to serve as a constant reminder until his Master was safe and well again.

_Obi-Wan's Padawan, you are no longer. Concerns you not, his fate does._

Anakin flinched at the memory of Master Yoda's words, and pushed one hand through his unruly curls in frustration…and paused, eyes distant at a sudden flash of memory. Yes. That was it. Still cuddling the pillow in the crook of his right arm, Anakin reached up into his long blonde curls, separating three strands from the mass behind his right ear.

"_Anakin, what is _that_ supposed to be?" Obi-Wan sounded as though he didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused._

_Anakin blinked innocent blue eyes at his Master, slightly unnerved. He didn't _think_ that he'd done anything wrong on this mission yet. He had been very careful about that; after all, it _was_ his first time out of the Temple on an actual assignment with Master Kenobi. He didn't want to screw up his first time around. _

"_Master?"_

_Obi-Wan raised one suspicious eyebrow at the ingenuous tone of voice. "_That_, Padawan." He walked over to where Anakin was perched anxiously on the edge of his bed to tug sharply on the short Padawan braid. "What sort of womp-rat's tail is this supposed to be? We are meeting with the ambassadors in a few hours, you realize."_

"_It's… it's my braid, Master." Anakin was unsure where this was going. The damn thing looked close enough to the way the girls back in the Temple did it, after all. Maybe it was a _little _lumpy, but not so bad as to warrant this reaction._

"_Force preserve me," Obi-Wan muttered under his breath, moving to sit next to Anakin and tugging the tie from the end of the mangled braid so that he could unwind the uneven strands. "You haven't learned how to do this by _now_?"_

_Anakin flushed. "I…. Well, it's just that… the female Padawans always…"_

"_I see." Obi-Wan said calmly. Somehow his implacable tone made Anakin all the more embarrassed. "Well, it's about time that you learned, Anakin. There aren't _always _going to be accommodating women around…that sort of thing is forbidden once you get older," he added in an undertone as an afterthought._

_Anakin frowned, confused. "Why is it forbidden to have some girl braid your hair?"_

_Obi-Wan looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh, which made Anakin scowl more. He hadn't said anything _that_ amusing, had he?_

_"Try again." Obi-Wan instructed, mastering his mirth and letting the three loose pieces of hair fall from his fingers. _

_Anakin grabbed the offending strands, grappling in vain with them. "I can't do this without a mirror," he grumbled. _

_Obi-Wan shook his head. "A mirror only makes it more difficult when you don't know what you're doing. Try again."_

_"Do, or do not. There is no _try_," Anakin replied sarcastically, earning himself a light cuff across the back of his head from Obi-Wan._

_"We may all have done that once, Padawan," he reprimanded Anakin lightly, "but until you're a full Knight, I expect you to be more respectful. Consider this your warning. Now…" he paused subtly, "…braid your hair, you must, or quite irritated, I will become."_

_Anakin giggled at the imitation, reaching over to smack Obi-Wan over the back of the head in the same manner. Obi-Wan grabbed his hand swiftly with a laugh, his grey-blue eyes impishly bright. _

_"Like_ you_ can do it without seeing what you're doing," Anakin scoffed, sullen at being thus thwarted, and wrestling once again with the pieces of hair. _

_Obi-Wan's lips quirked into a smile and, closing his eyes, he separated three pieces of his own hair from his coppery locks. Fingers flickering blindingly fast, he swiftly twined a tight, even, braid that fell behind his right ear to barely graze his chin. Obi-Wan shrugged, tugging at it. "It feels odd to have it this short," he confessed. _

_Anakin remembered how long Obi-Wan's Padawan braid had been, falling over the Jedi's right shoulder to his belt. Now that Obi-Wan was no longer a Padawan, the braid had been severed, and his hair was slowly growing out. It was at his chin now, and Obi-Wan was always tossing his head irritably to clear the errant strands from his eyes. _

_"How do you _do_ that?" Anakin complained, giving up on his own mangled braid to glower at the perfect plait in his Master's hair._

_Obi-Wan grinned. "Practice, young one. Only practice." Flicking his eyes towards the closed door, then to his chrono, he bit his lip thoughtfully. "Which we can do right now."_

_Anakin shrugged. "It probably would be easier if I could just see what I was _doing!_ I just can't get my fingers to go in the right direction…." He trailed off, beginning to smile as he stared at Obi-Wan._

_"Anakin…?" the Jedi Knight sounded a little worried._

_"Let me practice on you!" Anakin exclaimed._

_"I… I _beg_ your pardon?"_

_"Yeah!" Reaching out, Anakin grabbed a handful of Obi-Wan's hair, just as the Jedi tried to pull away, provoking an undignified squawk of surprise from the Jedi Master. Anakin duly memorised all the words that he hadn't heard before for future reference; Obi-Wan cursed better than anyone else he knew. _

"_Come on, Master, this will be _fun_!"_

Anakin blinked as the memory faded, to find that he was clutching a thin, even, plait loosely in his left hand. He hadn't even noticed that he had finished braiding it, so familiar had the process become. He could even do it with his eyes closed….

Sith, he hadn't thought about that for a long, long time. How he had spent the next couple of hours twining braid after braid into Obi-Wan's straight, smooth hair, laughing at the grumbled complaints from his Master. In the end, they had almost been late for their dinner with the ambassadors, and Obi-Wan had been obliged to run there with his Padawan in tow, hair still a mass of braids in varying sizes.

Even after Obi-Wan had managed to unsnarl most of his hair, he had kept that one braid behind his ear for a few weeks longer….

Smoothing the small braid back into the mass of curls behind his ear, Anakin reverently set the pillow to one side, smoothing out so that it looked exactly as Obi-Wan had left it, then stood decisively.

He would wear the braid until Obi-Wan was safe again. It didn't matter that he was no longer a Jedi; he would always be Obi-Wan's apprentice. That was something that the Council couldn't take away from him. Even after he was forced to say goodbye to his old friend and mentor and made to leave the Temple, he would still be Obi-Wan's protégé. That was a title he could carry in his heart for the rest of his life.

Would it be enough? Anakin considered. Would it be enough to be nobody of consequence, after being hailed on the HoloNet for years on end due to his exploits? Would it be enough to work from day to day, morning to night, in one place for the rest of his life, when once he had travelled the galaxy? Would it be enough to know that Obi-Wan was alive, even if they could no longer be partners…?

Yes. It was more than enough.

'_Except that I'll be worrying about him every day for the rest of _my_ life,' _Anakin thought cynically. _'He won't be able to handle himself without me to guard his back….'_

There was a soft chime at the door that startled him from his momentary reverie. Snatching up the fallen data-pad, Anakin quickly stuffed it into a pocket of his tunic before answering the door.

Master Yoda stood there solemnly, leaning heavily on his gimmer stick.

"Master?"

"Glad, am I that still here, you are." Yoda said calmly, casually walking into the apartment past a bewildered Anakin.

"I… I was just packing my things…" he stammered. _'And sobbing into Obi-Wan's pillow….'_ Swiftly, he rubbed at his eyes, praying that they weren't all red and blotchy; he didn't want Yoda to know how upset he was.

"Worried am I about your decision, young Skywalker." Yoda said gravely, looking around the apartment, his eyes sad. "Strong enough to face Count Dooku alone, you are not."

Anakin didn't reply. There was nothing more to be said.

Yoda sighed. "Made up your mind, you have." He suddenly looked so much older to Anakin's eyes. Almost…_frail_. "Wonder about you, I do, young Skywalker. An old friend of mine, Dooku was. Know his strengths well, I do. Know his _weaknesses_, I do. Arrogant, he has become." Yoda nodded sagely, ears laying flat as he peered up into Anakin's face. "Careful you must be, when face him you do. But if challenge Dooku you must, need _this_, I think you might." He reached into the sleeve of his robe as he spoke, and pulled out the hilt of Anakin's discarded lightsabre.

Anakin knelt to receive the sabre, his hand trembling as he took the delicate cylinder, revelling anew at the way it fit perfectly into his hand, and the comforting weight of the metal against the cybernetic prosthesis. It had been only a matter of hours since he had given it up, this ultimate symbol of Jedi status, and _Sith_, but he had missed it. The sabre hilt was based loosely on the design of Obi-Wan's own; an emulation from his hero-worshipping days as a Padawan. Coupled with the braid nestled in his hair, he felt like a child again, a newly-ordained Knight about to face the world on his own for the first time.

And his first mission was already decided.

Reaching out, Yoda touched Anakin's cheek lightly, almost in benediction. "Clouded your path is to me, young one," he said quietly, "But entwined with Obi-Wan's, it is. Lucky he is to have you."

Anakin closed his eyes, nodding tightly, not trusting his voice to speak. Even if he could have found his voice, there were no words to express what that simple phrase meant to him.

He was being given a second chance. A chance to prove himself to his Master, and to the Council. A chance to rectify his careless mistakes.

Snatching a spare cloak from the closet, he swept past the tiny Jedi Master, swinging the heavy black fabric over his shoulders as he walked, affixing the metallic cylinder of his lightsabre's hilt to his belt.

_I'm coming, Master. _

_END CHAPTER._

* * *

_BAM! _Chapter 8 is DONE! And Xtine would like to offer her kind thanks to the Yoda ex Machina for some stellar sabre-returning work. (pats the little green dude on the head).

Reviews are love, and you can't buy love, and I'm a starving student who can't buy _anything_, so reviews would be nice. Um. Did that make sense?

Xtine the Pirate


	10. Sidious

**IT's HERE! It's DONE! I FINALLY WROTE IT!**

**Ok. Enough frenetic squee on my part. Sorry about the excessive delay. I have no excuse (cough) aside from writing _Flying_ and _Cherry Mistmas Master Kenobi_ (cough). **

**MERRY CHRISTMAS -- or whatever holiday applies... -- to everybody! This is my (gasp) last post of the year! (gasp!)**

**Enough rambling...**

**I don't own SW, GL doesn't have anything to do with this (the dialogue would be a lot _worse_ if he did... heh heh heh.)**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Sidious**

_The spread of evil is the symptom of a vacuum. Whenever evil wins, it is only by default: by the moral failure of those who evade the fact that there can be no compromise on basic principles._

_Ayn Rand_

----

"Count Dooku?"

He turned at the sound of the timid, rasping voice, tearing his eyes away from the prone figure of the unconscious Obi-Wan Kenobi with some difficulty. The being that had dared to approach him flinched at the Count's piercing gaze, fighting back the urge to scuttle backwards down the hallway.

Dooku sneered faintly, and turned away. "What is it?" It had been a week now and there was still no sign of Skywalker. Day after day, the Count had found himself returning to this cell to stare pensively at the captive Jedi Knight, wondering if Lord Sidious had perhaps misjudged the depth of feeling between Skywalker and Kenobi. He had stared at the Jedi for hours it seemed, trying to figure out what it was that _his_ Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn, had ever seen in this boy. There was nothing overtly remarkable about him at all, nothing of the paragon of virtue that the HoloNet made him out to be. Dooku frowned. Those ridiculously banal HoloReporters knew _nothing_ about what constituted a _true_ Jedi Knight. All that the Temple had left to offer were children. But the Republic looked at them with awe, and thought that they knew what greatness was.

They had no_ idea_ what true greatness was, just as the weakening Jedi Order had no concept of power.

"My Lord?"

That wavering, obsequious voice again. Dooku wanted to crush the trembling being's trachea for daring to interrupt his reverie. He turned slowly, raising one eyebrow imperiously.

"Lord Sidious requests that you contact him immediately, my Lord." Having delivered himself of his message, the Veenatian scurried away swiftly, before Dooku could vent his ire.

Dooku sighed, suppressing the sudden surge of nervousness that rose like bile in his throat. His Master would not be pleased about the way their plans were progressing. All Dooku had to show for his effort was Kenobi, who was useless as anything but bait and who would be dead within the week anyways. Skywalker, in the meantime, was still safely ensconced in the Jedi Temple. So it was with a peevish scowl that Dooku strode back down the hallway. It was all very well for Lord Sidious to be irritated with the way things were going, but wasn't _he_ the one who was closest to Skywalker now? He could certainly give the impressionable child a nudge in the right direction, and allow Dooku to get away from this Sith-forsaken rock.

After being a Master for so long, it was _offensive_ to have to bend his knee to another. It was clearly a waste of his time and talents to be stranded here, with Kenobi as the only other intelligent sentient around – even unconscious, the boy was more intriguing company than the Veenatians. He should have killed the Jedi right away, rather than playing Lord Sidious' game of puuri and womp-rat in an attempt to lure Skywalker to the Dark Side.He should have stabbed Kenobi through the heart, rather than the shoulder. That would have ended this game. Skywalker would have felt Kenobi's death and, filled with that overbearing pride of his, would have hurried to avenge his Master.

And he would have met his own downfall at Dooku's hands.

As a Jedi, Count Dooku had been known for his direct methods – reflected even in his style of lightsabre combat. Simplicity was the most effective and the most efficient way of dealing with tiresome missions. None of this wasting time on convoluted plots and irrelevancies. In as much as Lord Sidious was shrewder about the ways of the Dark Side than Dooku himself was, the man did have a disturbing flair for the dramatic. The Count had learned not to be theatrical; it was nothing but wasteful. Apparently Sidious had never gained _that_ knowledge.

But he allowed none of these feelings to show in his expression as he knelt respectfully before the holocommunicator, shoving his wounded, sneering pride to the back of his mind. A frisson of fear left his mouth dry at the thought of Lord Sidious reading his mind, and learning of his apprentice's insubordination. Schooling his face to impassivity, he waited for his Master to speak. Their plan had failed. There was nothing to do now but hear what his Master had decided, whatever his feelings on the matter.

He would have to trust in the Sith Lord's judgement.

----

Palpatine turned in his chair to face out the broad window overlooking Coruscant. The sunlight was already fading, only to be replaced by the harsher gleam of the electric lights from the buildings and the gleam of speeders rushing by. But it wasn't the stunning vista that concerned him. The Chancellor's eyes were half closed, a malicious smile curving his pouchy lips. Sidious was seeing into the Force, and the display of light and power there was captivating.

Skywalker's anger was an explosion of radiance, shot through with red and black. The power of the Dark Side. The blue-grey gleams of the other Jedi Masters around him were nothing – fireflies flittering around the edges of a sun.

He inhaled slowly, basking in the bloody warmth of this display of anger and despair. His smile widened. Yes. Yes, _this_ was the potential that the blinded Jedi failed to see. Emotions that swirled and raged beyond their ken, generating far more power then their pitiful little minds could ever hope to comprehend. Skywalker stood at the centre of the maelstrom, a focal point of the Force.

"Very good, my young apprentice," Sidious murmured through parted lips, his eyes flaring red in response to the massive insurgence of hatred and despair. The smile on his face was almost one of fatherly pride. "_Very_ good."

But it wasn't good enough, not yet. There was potential there, infinite potential. But Skywalker still had to throw off the last shackles that the Jedi had placed on his power. And those were still very firmly in place, binding up the anger and rage, condensing it and subduing it. But they were weakening. Bit by bit, they were weakening.

Of course, the boy wouldn't come to him yet. Not today. Palpatine hadn't watched Skywalker so closely for the past thirteen years not to be able to anticipate his actions. The boy was so marvellously _predictable_, so full of righteous indignation about the injustices of his life. So utterly banal. But Palpatine had always been there to listen to the complaints and the accusations, to coax along the young man's budding resentment of the Jedi Order. The boy may have had remarkable powers, but he was hardly the thinker that Lord Tyrannus was. It was almost sad that the one would have to replace the other – Palpatine would almost miss conversing with the Count.

Almost. Having Skywalker bent to his will, those incredible powers at _his_ disposal… well, that would more than compensate. The lack of any capacity for deep thought would make the boy more malleable, more susceptible to the seduction of the Dark Side. It would bind him that much closer to Sidious.

No, Anakin would not be coming for counsel from his kindly old friend the Chancellor, nor would he run to hide in the bed of his senatorial whore, that irritating _insect_ Amidala. He would want to rescue his _dear _Master Kenobi right away, like the ridiculously devoted Jedi that he was. How tragic, the surprise that would be waiting for him upon his arrival.

It almost made Palpatine smile.

Anakin wouldn't come to him today, but it was of no great importance. Palpatine hadn't played at politics and games of war for decades to be put out by having to wait a little longer. A few more days, weeks, or months, it was all the same in the end for one who had been plotting for years on end. Everything had been set in motion already, it was now only a matter of time and a few well placed words and ideas.

Skywalker, the precious Chosen One of the Jedi Order, would make a marvellous Sith Lord. And his Master wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop it.

Kenobi. Palpatine frowned as he opened his eyes, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. The pathetic Knight that Skywalker followed like a faithful lapdog. It was sickening, the affection between the two of them, disrupting his suggestions that perhaps Obi-Wan was trying to hold Anakin back. Kenobi was a distraction that should have been removed years ago. A single mistake in an otherwise perfectly-plotted game.

Still, it was a tragic oversight that he had never seen the potential for anger in Kenobi before. The display he had put on at Veenat-III had been _most_ impressive. The ripples of his mind shattering were still reverberating through the Force, little currents of power that surged through the Sith Lord's mind with echoes of intoxicating agony.

It really was too good to waste.

_"My Lord."_

Sidious turned at the sound of his current apprentice's voice, waving one hand casually to Force-lock the doors. He didn't want this conversation to be interrupted.

"Ah, Lord Tyrannus," he said courteously, sensing with quiet glee the barely-concealed anxiety of the Count.

_"My Lord, there is as yet no sign of Skywalker coming to rescue Kenobi –"_

"I am well aware of that, old friend," Palpatine interrupted smoothly, deliberately choosing his words to see the Count twitch. They were not _friends_, Dooku was no more than a means to an end. But his apprentice was proud, and the illusion of equality was convenient… for the time being. "Skywalker is leaving the Temple as we speak."

Dooku inclined his head further._ "I look forward to bringing him before you, Master."_

"No, my friend, that won't be necessary. You are to leave Veenat-III immediately, and return to Cato Neimoidia."

Dooku, caught off guard, lifted is head in surprise, before hastily bowing again_. "I shall have Master Kenobi disposed of."_

"You will leave him." Palpatine snapped, lips curling into a snarl. "Leave him for Skywalker to find and rescue." Quickly as his anger had flared, his expression faded back into one of imperturbability.

"My dear Lord Tyrannus, I _hardly_ expect you to understand the concepts of absolute loyalty and guilt, but I assure you that those are what will bring Skywalker to us. The idea of abandoning his Master will be completely unacceptable to him, though Kenobi's mind has been shattered by your… dealings… with him. Although it would tap into our young friend's rage to have you murder his Master before his eyes, imagine how much more poignant it will be for him to find that the _sadly_ incapacitated Master Kenobi has committed suicide…." Palpatine smiled thinly, sensing the shudder that ran through Count Dooku as a result.

He adopted a woeful expression as he continued, though his eyes sparked with malicious delight. "Oh… I am afraid that the Jedi Order would end up being blamed for such a _tragic _misfortune," he spread his hands eloquently. "After all, they _were_ the ones to leave such a great Jedi in your clutches for a week." Palpatine's melancholy expression vanished in an instant, eyes narrowing into slits. "The Jedi Order will be destroyed from the inside. By one of their own."

Dooku's face was perfectly composed, but Sidious felt the faint flicker of what was almost despair, before the Count quashed it. That was Lord Tyrannus' failing; he had spent all of his youth serving the outdated Jedi Order, and already had strong ideals. Skywalker would be far more… compliant. Seeing his Master so utterly destroyed would break him.

The thought made Palpatine smile happily. Skywalker would be crushed, and would run to the one person he could trust completely to help gather up the pieces of his life.

And Palpatine would be waiting for him. A sympathetic ear, a well-placed word, a tentative suggestion, and a friendly smile were the only tools he would need to bring down this so-called "Chosen One" of the Jedi Order. They were the only things he would need to break down the restraints placed on Skywalker, and reveal the immeasurable vista of his powers. How foolish of them, to ostracize the one boy on whom they had placed all their hopes.

The Jedi had never considered the fact that the Sith had a prophecy of their own.

-----

Anakin stared out the transparisteel vidscreen of his small spacecraft, hands clenched impotently at his sides, willing the ship to go faster. Rationally, he knew that he should be spending the time resting, or meditating at the very least, to release some of the tension that he felt into the Force.

One hand rose to twine the pseudo-Padawan braid around his index finger, a habit that Obi-Wan had tried without success to break him of many times when Anakin was a child. It was a nervous tick, and his Master had often threatened to either cut off the braid, or to cut off Anakin's hand.

Anakin had joked about that after Geonosis, but Obi-Wan hadn't found it very amusing at all. He had always been too serious.

Groaning in frustration, Anakin slammed his hand back down on the edge of the ship's console. He would program the next hyperspace jump, and then try to get some rest. He would need all of his strength to face Dooku.

"Artoo?" he called back over his shoulder, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded. "Keep an eye on things up here, will you?"

Anakin rose stiffly from his chair as he spoke, grunting as his back re-aligned itself. He had been sitting in the same spot without moving for the past couple of hours – hardly the best way to prepare for a lightsabre battle. Anakin spun on one foot once he was clear of the chair, bringing his right leg up gracefully in a shoulder-high kick, feeling his hipbone crack satisfactorily. In the back of his mind, he could almost hear Obi-Wan's voice chiding him.

_"Stars' end Anakin, if you don't turn your head first, then how in the blazes will you know what you're trying to strike? You could end up hitting _me_, for Sith's sake."_

"Sorry, Master," Anakin whispered, repeating the manoeuvre, this time leading with his head so that he could follow the arc of his foot as it struck the air.

He continued back to his quarters, idly throwing in occasional movements from the katas that had been drilled into him since his days as a Youngling in the Temple. But although he usually enjoyed the substantial demands of the movements – a more physical meditation – his heart wasn't in them now. He always practiced with Obi-Wan, fine-tuning their ability to work as a team. If Anakin closed his eyes, flowing through the complex forms, he could see the shadow of Obi-Wan moving alongside of him, complimenting his actions, guarding his vulnerabilities. They were a team.

And without his other half, the katas seemed woefully inadequate.

Reaching his small quarters, Anakin knelt on the floor, clasping his hands before him and closing his eyes. Tilting his head back, he drew in a deep breath. Even meditation was harder without Obi-Wan, but it had never been easy to begin with so the absence was less severe. What would his Master say in this situation?

_"Anakin? You're meditating? Of your own free will? Now I've seen everything…."_

Of course the only reason that he was meditating was the fact that Obi-Wan w_asn't _there. Anakin sighed, exhaling slowly, releasing the thought into the Force as he had been trained to do.

_There is no emotion, there is only peace. _

_There is no ignorance, there is only knowledge. _

_There is no passion, there is only serenity…_ he let the soothing familiar words flood his mind, focusing on them, letting every thing else pass from his body with every exhaled breath.

Breathe. In and out. Soothing, regular, comforting.

For Anakin, connecting to the Force was being submersed in brilliant white light, an unearthly luminescence that wrapped around him as warm and comforting as a blanket, shining in him, through him, permeating his entire being.

Breathe. In and out. Slow, controlled, rhythmic.

_There was light all around him, soft and comforting and safe. He breathed it in, letting it into his lungs, feeling the power of it surge through him, seeping into his veins to dance through his body and mind. Making his skin tingle pleasantly with every indrawn breath. _

_Rhythmic. Controlled. _

_Breathe…. _

Anakin.

_He opened his eyes, seeing nothing but the muted glow of white around him. There were no horizons, no sense of space or dimension. An infinite vista of nothingness. Nothing edged with the _possibility_ of becoming _anything

_Breathe. In and out… breathe…._

Anakin.

_No. Wait. _

_He rose to his feet, unfurling himself from the meditative position. There was a small black shadow on the ground, marring the perfection of the gleaming place. He ran towards it, but his distance perception was off – the black hole grew bigger and bigger the farther he ran, until it swallowed him whole. _

_Breathe. _

Anakin

_Master! he cried, tumbling through space. Where are you?_

_There was an answering sob._

_Master?_

There!

_Obi-Wan was crying, tears streaked over his handsome face. Anakin felt his heart ache strangely at the sight, although another emotion was raging inside of him as he stared up at his Master. It burned through him, setting his veins alight. Obi-Wan looked so _hurt_, so terrified and alone as he stared down at his apprentice, firelight reflecting on his tear-stained cheeks._

_The unnamed emotion raged hotter through Anakin, making him gasp in agony. He wanted to destroy whoever it was that had done this to Obi-Wan, wanted to hurt whoever had _dared_ to injure Obi-Wan. _His_ Obi-Wan. But his Master was saying something; Anakin couldn't make out the words. He stretched out a hand towards Obi-Wan, a silent plea. _

_Come with me, Master. Please. Come with me. _

_With a pained expression, Obi-Wan turned away. _

_No! I won't lose you again, Master! Obi-Wan! _

_He closed his eyes. _

_Breathe. Just breathe…. Focused. Controlled. There is no passion, there is only serenity…._

_Darkness. He was falling again, sliding deeper into the bottomless well. _

_Darkness around him, familiar and peaceful. Anakin shifted absently, adjusting the sheets that tangled around his legs awkwardly in an attempt to get comfortable. When a lazy arm draped over his waist, he nearly leapt from the bed. Had he woken Padmé by accident? Had he been dreaming?_

_"A little on edge, are we?" the voice that spoke was rough with sleep, a pleasant baritone that Anakin knew _so _well. Then that arm tightened slightly, drawing him back to be pressed against a body that was _definitely_ male. Anakin shivered in pleasure, turning over to face his lover, his Master, who moaned a sleepy protest. _

_Obi-Wan's eyes were hazy and tired, shining in the darkness from beneath the dishevelled strands of his auburn hair. "And here I thought I had managed to tire you out, young one," he laughed quietly. _

_"I didn't mean to wake you. I'm sorry…"_

_"Hmm…" Obi-Wan murmured, closing his eyes and pulling Anakin closer. "Love you…."_

_Wait. No. Where was Padmé? Padmé! He turned frantically, seeking her in the darkness as he fell further, until the Force-light above him was barely a speck of brightness in the distance. _

_"I loved you!"_

_The accusation rang in his ears, distorted and far away, filled with a terrible sense of loss, pain that rippled along their shattered Force-bond. _

_Obi-Wan. Master._

_Obi-Wan was crying. Curled up on his side in the corner of a dark, enclosed room, knees drawn up to his chest and sobbing as though his heart were broken. Anakin reached out to him, but couldn't bridge the gap between them. _

_NO! Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!_

A frantic beeping made Anakin's eyes snap open, and he sagged forwards onto the floor, gasping for breath. He had never sunk that deeply into meditation before, so far that he forgot about his physical body. But it had felt so… so _real. _He was trembling uncontrollably, his teeth chattering, though he wasn't cold. Reaching out blindly, Anakin snatched the thin blanket from the cot next to him, pulling it tightly around his shoulders as he tried to calm his pounding heart.

_Master… Obi-Wan… _Anakin automatically stretched out along their Force-bond, a long-ingrained response for whenever he was scared. Obi-Wan would have known what to do; he would have pulled Anakin out of the trance before he fell too far. Hugging his arms tightly across his chest, Anakin rocked slightly, trying to slow his heart rate back to normal. It was pounding loudly in his ears, in response to some unremembered terror.

Anakin closed his eyes, forcibly slowing his breathing, though his body still wanted to gasp for air. He stilled his mind with difficulty, trying to remember what he had seen, but it slipped from his grasp even as he stretched for it, leaving only a puzzling wash of emotions in its wake.

Love. More intense than anything he had felt before… it made Anakin shift uncomfortably as his skin tingled from a memory that was denied from his mind. He loved Obi-Wan, of course…but not in such an _intimate_ way, surely? They were closer than most Master/Padawan teams, Anakin had always known that. They were far more attached than the Council would have liked. There had always been love between them, but it had been fond affection, the platonic love of brothers in arms. But this… this felt… different. It shivered over his skin, tantalizing him with half-formed memories. Memories of love and contentment and peace… and desire. Desire that smouldered with a banked flame, ready to consume him if he allowed it.

Anakin shook his head roughly, his body aching with yearning at the memory of that phantom intimacy. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly in denial. It was impossible.

_There is no emotion… there is only peace_. He repeated the first line over and over in his mind like a mantra, terrified by the implications of this sudden burst of feeling.

Shoving aside that warm glow, he delved deeper into his blurred memory, trying to capture the rest of the emotions that his meditation had produced. Immediately, he was struck by an overpowering sensation of incomprehensible loss. Loss and _suffering_.

And… hatred?

He reached out towards the Force again, trying to recapture his vision, when something sharp jabbed him firmly in the back, making him jump. An insistent whistle accompanied the attack, and Anakin laughed, moving to sit comfortably on the floor.

"I'm all right, Artoo," he assured the little astromech, spinning around to face him, "I just… just got a little lost, that's all. I'm ok." That was an understatement. His hands were still trembling slightly, his temples throbbing with the feeling that something was _missing_. Something important that he had been shown in the Force….

R2-D2 swivelled his top around, bleeping and squealing at his Master.

Anakin smiled, "All right. No more meditation, I promise."

Another beep that managed to sound both worried and smug at the same time.

"We're almost there?" Anakin leapt to his feet, unfolding himself from his meditative position in a single movement, though it was lacking his typical grace. Fortunately, R2 didn't notice the way Anakin's legs shook as they bore his full weight again, how he pulled his cloak tighter around himself to ward off a non-existent chill.

'_How long was I meditating?' _By his calculations of the passage of time, there should have been hours to go on the voyage.

But no, upon reaching the bridge, Anakin could see Veenat-III rising in front of the vidscreen. It was discomfiting, almost as though he had lost those hours somehow. One more disturbing element to add to this entire mission. He folded his hands into the arms of his robes, feeling his pulse begin to race at the sight. Almost there.

The Separatist cruiser was gone, however. Anakin scanned all orbits around the planet, in case it was hiding just out of site, but no… there was nothing.

It was strangely unsettling; even though Obi-Wan would have chided him not to go _looking_ for danger, to Anakin's mind there should have been _some_ resistance. Unless, and a sick sensation rocked him at the thought, unless Dooku had left the planet, taking Obi-Wan with him?

"Artoo, scan the planet for the debris of Obi-Wan's Delta-6, based on his last-known trajectory." Anakin said quickly, frowning as he regarded the impassive face of the planet. "I have a bad feeling about this…."

END

* * *

It's Christmas, people. Be kind little Jedi Padawans and give Xtiney the gift of a review. It will be the cheapest present you've given ANYBODY this Holiday season (or your money back!)

Xtine


	11. So Near, So Far

**YES! The story lives!**

I cannot apologise enough for the extreme delay in this chapter... it has been sitting in various stages of completion on my computer for the past two months, slowly becoming the bane of my existence. I have never known a rewrite soooo painful as this one. Thanks so much and a million times over to my exceedingly patient beta, **Temple Mistress**, for telling me off when I wimped out on emotion in the story and then compensated by being overly emotional myself about the rewrite. (I mean, tears, bitching, throwing things across the room... not pretty...)

And also special thanks to **Wyndmir**, whose sudden slew of reviews on this fic just before the break rekindled my interest in trying to get the story done. Just to remind you, you promised me a review on every chapter darling, and you're only up to part 6! (laughs). Just kidding.

Other replies are after the fic, because after waiting so long... you really want to get to the story, don't you?

**Quick recap**: Anakin defied the Council's decision and left for Veenat-III with the purpose of rescuing Obi-Wan (held captive there for the past week and believed to be dead). Meditating on the way to the planet, Anakin had an unusually intensevisionthat almost left him trapped in the Force, until R2's intervention pulled him back out.

Chapter 9 ended with Anakin's arrival at the planet. **

* * *

**

Chapter 10: So Near, So Far.

"_And the wind that blows reminds me  
__of what has been…and what can never be."  
__Nickel Creek, 'The Lighthouse Tale'_

It reminded him of home.

Sun-bleached tracts of sand stretched out endlessly before his eyes, broken only by massive outcroppings of rock. No animal cries disturbed the silence, nothing but the lonely whispering sighs of the wind over the dunes.

The striking similarity of Veenat-III to Tatooine had hit him immediately upon setting foot on the rough, grainy earth. The glare off of the sand had made him flinch, had forced him to squint his eyes tightly as he scanned the dunes for tracks. There had been none, of course. He hadn't expected to find any, not with the way that the wind tugged insistently at his cloak and hair. He had known that any such evidence would have been long erased.

But there was always hope.

It had almost made him laugh, that he was obliged to shield his eyes from the sun, after living so much of his life on another sun-scorched rock. The years on grey durasteel-formed Coruscant had made him soft, apparently….

If he closed his eyes, tilting his head back up to the sky, he was back on Tatooine, a young boy in the backyard of a junk shop, dreaming of being far away. Dreaming of adventures on far-flung planets. Of rescues and escapes and danger.

His dreams had come true, in the end. So near and yet so far from what he had desired with all the passion of a child's heart. So close to home, yet so far away. When he opened his eyes again, Anakin had to blink a few times, to remember where he was and what he was doing. This wasn't Tatooine. He hadn't been to the planet in three years now, and he never wanted to return again. It was no longer truly his home; home to Anakin was grounded in a person, not a place, and he would see nothing but death on Tatooine now.

Death and the shameful memory of his failure to save his mother.

Anakin took a deep breath, praying to the Force that the similarities between Tatooine and Veenat-III wouldn't extend that far. This time, he _would_ arrive in time to save the person he cared about. He_ would_ rescue Obi-Wan. In a way, it would lay his mother's ghost to rest.

He would not fail again.

He would never forgive himself if he did. He had already lost one person of utmost importance in his life; Anakin didn't think he could stand to lose another. Obi-Wan was… Obi-Wan was everything. Anakin's heart lurched slightly at the thought, and he closed his eyes again, tilting his face up to the sky.

_Please let me find him. Let him be all right. _

If Anakin didn't succeed, he knew there would be nothing left for him on Coruscant. Nothing left in the galaxy. He and Obi-Wan were a team; they always had been. It was an ancient Jedi maxim true partners lived together and died together. And there was no closer team in the history of the Order than Team Kenobi-Skywalker. They completed each other.

With a guilty start, Anakin's thoughts turned to Padmé. How could he have forgotten about his _wife_, for Sith's sake? It had to be this mission, his worry about Obi-Wan. His Master, his _partner_. Padmé was his wife, his angel, his true love. He and Obi-Wan were complementary halves of a Jedi Team, but Padmé was the other half of his heart. He loved her.

But somehow, the thought didn't carry the same conviction that it usually did.

'_It's just this mission,' _Anakin told himself sternly. _'You're just worried about Obi-Wan. The sooner you rescue him, the sooner you can get home. Then everything will go back to normal.' _He had to believe that, it was the only way he could continue. Now was not the time to think about Padmé, or the strange echoes of feeling for Obi-Wan from his earlier meditation. Focus. He just needed to focus.

The sun that scorched the sky to a washed-out lilac beat down heavily on Anakin's head as he knelt on the powdery sand, letting his hand hover just above the surface of the dune. Pushing any other thoughts out of his mind and letting his eyes fall half-shut, Anakin reached into the Force, causing the particles of sand to jump and dance under his fingertips. They slowly swept themselves to one side, revealing larger, darker clumps underneath.

Blood. A week of sun and wind had bleached it, had crumbled the clotted sand into dusty scarlet lumps, but hadn't erased its signature. Blood had been spilled here, and a lot of it. Anakin flinched as he gently brushed the sand with his fingertips, feeling the memory of violent pain ripple through him. His Master had been here, had bled here. Anakin sucked in a quick breath, and squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

So much blood….

Anakin's hands clenched sharply against the stained sand, crumbling it in his desperate grasp. He shook his head sharply. _No._ Even now, he was still sure that Obi-Wan was alive, despite what the Council thought, despite what Luminara had said. He was alive. Anakin wouldn't let it be any other way.

"I'm coming," Anakin whispered, dusting his knees off as he rose again, searching for any more clues to lead him to Obi-Wan's whereabouts.

Obi-Wan's wrecked craft had been easy enough to find upon landing on the planet, even though it lay in the shadow of a rocky mesa. The presence of something metallic in the sands had made a scan for the ship impossible, but R2's projection of Obi-Wan's last known trajectory had made the search simple and swift.

Anakin sighed quietly, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes scanned the horizon, squinting into the ferocious sunlight. He had to hope that the trail hadn't lead to a dead end with this sand dune. Finding Obi-Wan's ruined ship had been easy, but so far it was the only part of the miserable mission that had gone as planned….

_Long scour marks in the stone showed the passage of his Master's tumbling craft, culminating in the twisted wreckage that now lay at Anakin's feet. Had he not felt the battle between Obi-Wan and Dooku, Anakin would have wondered whether or not his Master had survived the crash. The ship was absolutely devastated. Anakin slumped against the ruined hull, covering his eyes with one hand as he trembled slightly. This was his fault. It was all his fault. _

_No ordinary sentient would have lived through the collision, and even most Jedi would have been grievously wounded. How Obi-Wan had managed to pull it off…Anakin couldn't contain the small swell of pride that blossomed in his heart at the thought, forcing a faint smile though his anguished expression. His Master had always managed to defy death, one of the few things he had in common with his Padawan. Obi-Wan would have laughed and said that it was a necessary adaptation on his part, considering Anakin's propensity for landing them in danger. _

_Considering the alternative in this case however, for once death might have been preferable. _

_Anakin pursed his lips slightly, straightening up to drum his fingers against the fractured vidscreen, now dusted with a fine layer of sand. The desert was already reclaiming the site as its own. _

_A despondent bleeping noise caught Anakin's attention, and he vaulted over the twisted metal to the other side of the small Delta craft, calling his lightsabre into his hand automatically. And relaxed instantly, as the origin of the noise was revealed. _

_"Arfour?" he asked incredulously, catching a glimpse of red in the shadow of the spacecraft, dark after the brilliant glare of the sun. He hadn't expected that the little droid would have been able to make it through the ungentle landing intact – his Master was not mechanically minded enough to fix a droid, after all. _

_A plaintive whistle and the astromech trundled unsteadily into the sunlight. Anakin passed a hand carefully over the deep scars on the droid's surface, noting how the insidious sand had worked its way into the crevices to begin gumming up mechanisms and disrupting normal functions. Astromechs weren't designed with desert worlds in mind – Anakin knew that well from his days in Watto's shop on Tatooine. How the tenacious little droid had managed to survive a week of these conditions…._

_Anakin could only hope that his Master was as strong. _

_"Arfour, which way did Obi—which way did Master Kenobi go?" Anakin demanded urgently. The wind on the planet had long erased any trace of the Jedi Knight's passage. Anakin could not afford to take a wrong turn. Not with so much at stake. Not without being able to rely on the Force to find his Master. _

_The astromech bleeped and whistled urgently, rocking forward on its stubby legs. Anakin turned back to the large dunes, frowning, then began to run. _

R4's directions had led him to this dune after a fashion. Anakin had been angling in the wrong direction, when a glint of sunlight on metal had caught his eye. The shattered fragments of battle droids had told the rest of the story. The blood staining the sand was just a final confirmation of the facts Anakin had already known.

With a disgruntled sigh, Anakin glanced back over his shoulder at the direction from whence he had come, then forward again over the endless dune sea ahead. It was so vast, so boundless. How could he possibly find one man without the Force, without the connection that usually bound his mind so intimately to Obi-Wan's?

_You're focusing too much on the negative, Anakin. _

Obi-Wan's voice in his mind, quietly amused in chastisement. That had been the day that they had met Padmé again; Anakin had been so nervous about seeing her. Obi-Wan, of course, had been perfectly calm. He always was, giving Anakin the balance, the control, that he needed.

Just as the memory of his voice in Anakin's mind could bring him back into balance. Taking a deep breath, Anakin pushed one hand through his hair, considering his options. Much as his heart demanded that he rush forward, tearing across the dunes to find his Master, his mind held him back. Thinking rationally, Anakin knew that he couldn't do this on foot. Notwithstanding the amount of time it would take, there could be no margin of error – his supplies wouldn't last long enough. Obi-Wan might not last long enough. And Anakin knew if his Master was wounded that dragging him back across kilometres of desert wouldn't improve matters. Especially if he had to fight his way back out.

Analytical thinking had never been Anakin's role in his partnership with Obi-Wan. He preferred to rush headlong into battles and then let the Force guide his actions, much to his partner's dismay. Obi-Wan had always warned Anakin that his spontaneity would get both of them killed; Anakin was terrified that his Master was going to be proved right. Tactics were something that Obi-Wan handled, insisted upon, and followed to the letter, and something that Anakin was swiftly learning to rely on.

If the droids had marched a considerable distance, some of them would have dropped from the sand overloading their mechanisms. Hopefully, it would leave a trail that he could follow. Skimming low over the dunes would provide a better opportunity for visual surveillance… as well as a method of transport for quick escape….

"I'm coming," Anakin repeated softly, before turning to sprint back across the sands towards his ship.

---

Padmé sat on the couch in her living room, smiling politely and pretending to listen as Senator Organa spoke. Her ears heard the sound of his sophisticated voice, rising and falling in an impassioned speech whose meaning eluded her mind. She couldn't help but think another man, one who dressed simply, rather than the sumptuous fabrics and colours of her companion. A man whose hair fell in unruly blonde curls rather than neat and short and black.

Anakin….

She had had C-3PO contact the Temple on some pretext to learn his whereabouts, not a week past. And the protocol droid had pronounced that Anakin had indeed returned from his last mission.

She had been unable to find out anything more than that.

Now her mind was churning, anxiety twisting in her stomach. Where was Ani? Was he all right? Had he been injured? Why hadn't he come to see her this time? Generally, whenever her husband arrived back on Coruscant, he would spend every night with her in their apartments, making up for every moment they were forced to be apart. A brief interlude of passion and love, before he would once more be called away in service of the Republic.

And she _tried_ not to be jealous. She _tried_ to resist the cold anger that would twist in her stomach when, early in the morning, she would be woken by the sound of Anakin's communicator chiming. Hearing the sound of Obi-Wan's cultured accent, informing his partner of their next mission.

But sometimes, in those cold morning hours, after Anakin had pressed a kiss to her forehead and had slipped away again, in the hours before dawn when she couldn't fall back to sleep, she would hate the Jedi Order. She would hate Obi-Wan Kenobi and even the Republic for possessing more of her husband's heart than she ever could.

She would quietly hate everything that conspired to take the man she loved away from her again. And hate never knowing if that fond kiss pressed against her skin would be their last.

Sometimes, Padmé wondered what would happen if, on those dark mornings, she pushed the communicator out of her husband's hand, and drew him back down to her. What Anakin would do if she threw her arms about his neck and begged him not to go? Would he stay? Or was his duty to the Jedi – no, to _Obi-Wan_ – stronger than his duty to his wife?

She had never tried it. And although she tried to tell herself that it was because she respected his allegiance to the ideals of democracy, and that she didn't want to force him to abandon that belief for her sake; the truth was darker. She didn't try to stop him from leaving because she feared he _would_ stay and hate himself and his wife for it.

But more importantly, she didn't try to stop him because she feared he _wouldn't _stay. That he would leave her, and go with Obi-Wan…and be _happy_ in his decision. It was in those grey, dreary morning hours that she would wonder if the deep looks she had seen pass between them really _did_ mean something more. Even if they didn't yet know it themselves.

It wasn't anything that Anakin had said or done; nothing specific that she could pin down to her satisfaction. But there was a faint smile that tweaked the corners of Anakin's mouth whenever he spoke about the Jedi Master, a smile that was reserved solely for Obi-Wan. It was the way that Anakin ducked his head shyly when Obi-Wan praised him. Nothing concrete, nothing definite.

But it was there nonetheless. Whenever Obi-Wan called Anakin to go on a mission, her husband would answer without hesitation. If ever the Jedi Master decided to call Anakin for…for _other reasons_, Padmé wasn't certain she would be able to win her husband back.

"Senator Amidala?" Bail's cultured voice interrupted her thoughts, and Padmé came back to herself with a startled blink. Smiling apologetically, she tilted her head slightly, allowing herself to blush. The perfect picture of innocent embarrassment. Bail Organa returned the smile and continued talking, never once suspecting her thoughts. The world saw her as a kind but tenacious woman, compassionate and fierce. They didn't know the hatred that lay dormant in her heart, hatred that Padmé herself was ashamed to acknowledge. Hatred for the man who was slowly taking her husband away from her.

_'Oh Ani… come home quickly. Please. I need you now….'_

But she dragged her thoughts back to the present moment, leaning forward slightly to pick up the thread of Senator Organa's words.

---

The compound was dark inside.

Anakin instantly ignited his lightsabre after palming open the door, for the feeble illumination that the blue beam would give. Any air circulation in the building had long been cut off along with the electric lighting – the air was still and rank and oppressive, making Anakin wrinkle his nose and grimace as he cautiously worked his way through the low, twisting tunnels.

The very squalor of the place was indicative of the Count's departure; from what Anakin knew of Dooku, the Sith was fond of elegance and order, not this stinking hellhole of a hideout. Still, Anakin kept his lightsabre in the ready position, muscles tensed and ready to spring into action should an attack come without warning.

But the Force was silent. There was a residual taint of the Dark Side in the low tunnels and grim-looking rooms, but nothing urgent, nothing immediate. Just…_nothing_. No warnings of impending danger, no ripples of Force-sentience…no feelings of _life_ at all.

Which meant that if Obi-Wan were here, then he was….

A soft sound made Anakin whirl, bringing his lightsabre up to strike – but there was nothing there. A few loose stones tumbling to the ground from the roughly hewn walls, nothing more.

Anakin resisted the urge to scream in frustration, every muscle tensed, adrenaline pounding through his veins. He _wanted_ to meet some resistance, to have an outlet for his fear and frustration. He needed something, _anything_ – any indication of life in this closed place to indicate that his mission had not been in vain.

Not that the first living being Anakin met would survive for long.

Robbed of that outlet for his anger, Anakin slashed his lightsabre violently sideways to scour the rock. Expecting the blade to connect with the wall, bracing for the impact that would jar him back into the present moment, Anakin was thrown off balance when it failed to encounter anything.

Frowning, the keen edge of his rage eased by the unexpected discovery, Anakin squinted into the darkness. He held up his sabre, allowing the pale blue to illuminate the gap that he had inadvertently discovered. The faint light revealed what seemed to be a passage; a deeper shade of _blackness_ from the dark of the tunnel. Stretching out his hand, Anakin reached through the Force at the same time. His hand met only air, the Force whispered along the small side-opening, coming back with echoes of pain and blood and death. It was another route.

He was on the right track.

Stepping gingerly into the enclosed space, Anakin reeled backwards from the change in the Force. Dark, rank, insidious; it felt like oil as it clung to his skin and clothes, working its way into Anakin's heart as he slowly pushed onwards. He wanted to turn and run, to flee back out into the sunlight and let the wind scour his soul clean again. The sudden impulse was so strong that Anakin stopped for a moment, his heart pounding unnaturally loud in the confined space. He couldn't breathe. The air was too thick, clogging his lungs, creating a band of pressure across his chest.

He couldn't _breathe_.

Anakin stumbled back a step, and another, gasping in sudden relief as air rushed back into his lungs. His breathing was ragged as he closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow.

Master Windu had been right. There was no hope for rescuing Obi-Wan. He should just give up and go home to Padmé, who would hold him close and take away all this pain, all this fear. He could be safe there with her and –

Anakin froze, eyes widening as he heard the path his thoughts were taking. His lips curled into a grimace as he snarled, defying the irrational fear that raised the hairs along the back of his arms and caused his heart to race. He would not admit defeat. Not here. Not now.

He wouldn't leave his Master alone here.

Wrapping a blanket of the Force around himself, taking comfort in its light, and holding a picture of his Master in his mind, Anakin pushed forward again. Every step _hurt_ to take, as though he was somehow being poisoned by the utter malice that was a very part of the rock. The glow of the Force he held close around himself faded more and more the farther Anakin went, fading like a dying star as the darkness grew deeper. Anakin could feel the stain of blackness infecting his mind and soul, slowly spreading to taint his entire being.

The corridor opened up suddenly; Anakin could dimly sense the space on both sides, though he still felt desperately claustrophobic. It wasn't the walls that were hemming him in; it was the atmosphere, the cloying, oppressive heaviness that pushed down on his mind. It would try to break his shields. If Anakin faltered for a second, that blackness would flood in.

Shoring up his barriers, Anakin groped out blindly with his left hand, recoiling instinctively when he met cold metal.

_Bars_. He was surrounded by cells.

Raising his lightsabre to eye-level, Anakin peered into the dim prison, seeing nothing but blank floors and old bloodstains on the ground. He kept his left hand close to his side after that first contact; his fingers were tingling and burning, saturated with Force-memories of agony. The stench of blood and sweat and fear saturated the air, overwhelming. Anakin took shallow breaths, scanning the rows of empty cells, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

This place was perfect for a Sith. Dooku had probably loved spending time among such strong memories of anguish, feeding his poisoned soul. Reluctantly, Anakin stretched out through the Force, breathing heavily as the darkness flittered around his perceptions. It pushed in on him, flooding his senses until he staggered sagging against a cell as he fought back the urge to vomit. Still he stretched outwards, sinking slowly to the floor as tears streaked his cheeks.

There. A deeper patch of blackness on the already stained and rotten threads of the Force.

Dooku's Force-signature.

_Obi-Wan. _Obi-Wan had to be there.

Anakin tried to stand, sobbing harshly as his legs trembled and refused to support his weight. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. _Obi-Wan. _He dragged himself over the rocky floor, heedless of the sharp edges that tore through the fabric of his pants to slice his skin, pulling himself over to the cell where the Count must have stood for hours on end, day after day, to leave such an imprint in the Force.

He gagged as Dooku's malevolence leeched into his heart, his stomach lurching and his head spinning from the violating caress of the Dark Side. It was worse than when he had forced himself into Ventress' mind; it was far, far worse. The difference between a Sith Lord and a mere apprentice. Anakin wanted nothing more than to curl up into a tiny ball on the floor, to keep away the sickening intimacy of the darkness sliding over his skin. Anakin shuddered intensely, clutching the bars so tightly that the metal bit deeply into his left hand. But he didn't raise his lightsabre to illuminate the cell. He knew that Obi-Wan _had_ to be in there, knew that his mission was completed, one way or another.

But he didn't want to see. He didn't want to know what had been done to his Master. Closing his eyes, Anakin rested his head against the metal, shivering violently even in the oppressive heat of the prison.

_Obi-Wan…._

Raising his lightsabre slowly, Anakin whimpered, hand clenching tighter on the bars. Blood trickled in a thin red steam down his wrist, staining the sleeve of his tunic, but he barely noticed, fixated on the sight that met his eyes. _Obi-Wan_. Obi-Wan was there, back turned to the door, huddled motionless in a pathetic little bundle. Anakin could feel the echo of his Master's fear, and desperation poisoning the air. He could feel the pain. The unbelievable, soul-deep pain.

Hatred seized Anakin's heart, hatred of the Sith who had dared to take Obi-Wan away from him, hatred for the Council who had abandoned Obi-Wan here, who had tried to keep Anakin away. Hatred of himself for being the one to put Obi-Wan here.

Everything went red.

Anakin screamed, a choked, sobbing cry of rage and guilt and pain as he slashed brutally at the bars with his sabre. Harsh, desperate strokes, devoid of his usual grace and effectiveness, each strike punctuated with a broken, gasping sob. He couldn't see the bars, his eyes blurred with tears as he swung the sabre again and again.

Kneeling on the rough, uneven floor, Anakin didn't have the leverage to cut cleanly through the bars, but he couldn't be rational, couldn't think of anything beyond getting through the last obstacle that stood between him and his Master. Hacking at the bars, he saw only Dooku's mocking face in the whirl or brilliant blue light.

_Strike._

He wished it was the Sith who he was attacking, slashing the limbs from the old man in payment for his own lost arm.

_Strike._

He wished it was Master Windu, begging for his life instead of remaining cold and sneering from his lofty position on the Council.

Anakin was on his feet now, screaming in mindless blind rage, swinging his sabre powerfully through the thick metal. Hearing the cries of his victims in his mind and laughing hysterically as they fell one by one.

_Strike_.

He wished it was the inhabitants of the planet, for building this stinking ruin. All of them deserved to die for allowing Obi-Wan to be hurt; the men and the women and –

There was a faint ringing noise as the last segment of bar was severed, clinking softly on the floor.

Anakin came back to himself with a gasp, panting both with exertion and the blood lust suddenly fleeing his mind, leaving a dull, tired sense of clarity. His limbs felt so heavy, his heart weak and sick, but he was focused again.

Obi-Wan.

Anakin lurched into the cell, collapsing next to his Master's still form. He hesitated, scared that if he reached out to touch the Jedi Knight's shoulder, Obi-Wan would disappear; that he would be only an apparition, a figment of Anakin's imagination. The Force wasn't telling him anything, there was no flicker of life in the sluggish, polluted currents to tell him whether his Master was still living.

Anakin's hands hovered anxiously, uncertain of where to settle, what to do. He wanted to grab Obi-Wan and hold him close, to reassure himself that this was real, that Obi-Wan would be safe. But he was scared, _so scared_, that he would find that Obi-Wan really was dead; that his Master had died alone in this cramped, dingy cell.

Anakin started to cry, tense and scared and alone. The darkness was pressing in around him, making him feel like a youngling again, when he had been terrified of the dark and would crawl into Obi-Wan's bed to be comforted. Obi-Wan was the only one who could keep the nightmares at bay.

If Obi-Wan was dead, then there would be nothing to keep those nightmares away, nothing to keep the visions of a destroyed Temple, a planet aflame, and the mocking sound of croaking laughter from plaguing his dreams. Burying his head in his hands, Anakin rocked back and forth, sobbing as the Dark Side swirled more tightly around him.

----

_Anakin was crying._

_Obi-Wan could hear the muffled sobs through the darkness and it pierced his heart. He tried to reach out, tried to touch Anakin's mind, to tell him that everything was going to be all right. _

_I'm sorry Anakin. _

_I'm sorry._

_Don't cry, please don't cry._

_Obi-Wan reached out blindly, sobbing soundlessly as fragments of his memories cut him deeply. He tried to reach Anakin, to comfort the younger Jedi as he had done for so many years. _

_He tried to touch their bond again, desperate as he met nothingness. _

_It's all right Anakin._

_No. No it wasn't all right. Anakin was dead. _

_Familiar pain ripped through him again, and he pulled back into himself, away from the memories, the fragments that cut his soul, leaving it bleeding. _

_He pulled away again, and fell. Leaving Anakin crying. _

_I'm sorry. _

_He fell, fell back down into the darkness of his mind. _

_Alone. _

----

Anakin raised his head slowly, hardly daring to breathe as he concentrated. He thought he had felt something for just a moment, a faint brush against his psychic barriers. It had been there for only the barest of seconds, forcing back the darkness long enough to touch Anakin's mind. A touch that was so familiar that it made Anakin's heart clench painfully.

Then it was gone. Anakin followed the touch instinctively, leaning into the void it left behind, following it as long as he could.

And started to laugh: choked, hysterical laughter though the tears that still streaked his face. He laughed in relief because Obi-Wan was _alive_.

His Force-signature was weak, so desperately weak, but it was there, now that Anakin had felt it once. He held on to that tenuous link, refusing to allow it to be smothered again by the reverberations of years of pain that this place held. He couldn't help the smile that curved his lips of its own volition.

Obi-Wan was _alive_. He was alive, and everything would be fine, because Anakin had found him. Making sure the beam would remain activated; Anakin dropped his sabre carelessly and pulled Obi-Wan into his lap. Anakin trembled at his Master's weight, because it meant that he was really there, that this was real. Anakin had found him. Stroking his Master's hair softly, Anakin examined what he could see of the older Jedi's wounds.

Obi-Wan's clothing was soaked with blood, all down his arms and concentrated on his left shoulder. Anakin gently probed at the wound, hissing between his teeth as the burned fabric was tugged away to reveal a vicious sabre-wound that hadn't been fully cauterized with the blow.

Obi-Wan's face was so pale in the gloom, though stained with dirt and dust and streaked with blood. Anakin fought back his tears as he caressed his Master's cheek, letting go a choked gasping sob at how cold the Jedi Knight's skin was; like ice, even in the oppressive heat of the prison cell.

And he had no pulse. Anakin froze, fingers pressed against Obi-Wan's neck, frantic at the lack of a heartbeat. His breath came faster, desperate, because Obi-Wan _had_ to be alive, he just _had to be_! Anakin had felt him there, had felt his Force-signature! It might have been faint, but he knew that he had not been wrong. Dimly he realized that Obi-Wan didn't seem to be breathing either; he was still, limp, and cold in Anakin's arms.

Anakin had seen enough corpses during the Clone Wars to be able to draw the disturbing comparison.

"_No. _No, you're not dead. I won't _let_ you be dead. Please Obi-Wan, wake up. Wake up, _please_. Oh Force, _please… please…_" Anakin begged in a tiny, desperate voice, rocking Obi-Wan back and forth in his arms as though soothing a child. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, curling protectively around Obi-Wan's body and resting his cheek against the Jedi's hair. If Anakin closed his eyes, maybe this wouldn't be real. Maybe he would wake up, he would be in his room at the Temple, and Obi-Wan would be all right.

"Fucking _Sith! _Damn it Obi-Wan, wake up! _Wake up!_" he screamed, suddenly furious at Obi-Wan for not responding, for not being there when Anakin needed him the most. His face contorted in desperation as he held Obi-Wan closer, refusing to believe he had been wrong, refused to consider that Obi-Wan might really be dead.

Anakin wanted to shake Obi-Wan, to _force_ him to come back. He wanted to hug Obi-Wan, to tell him that everything was going to be all right.

He wanted to die here, alone in the darkness, if his Master was already gone.

_Please… please don't be dead. Please Obi-Wan. Master…._

A beat against his fingertips. Fluttery and light, gone in a second. Anakin caught his breath, hardly daring to hope. _Please_. _Please. _"Obi-" Anakin began, his voice ending in a choked sob as he pulled Obi-Wan closer against him, curling his body around the still form in his arms.

'_Don't let him be dead. Please. I'll do anything. I'll apologize to Master Windu, I'll leave the Order and never come back to Coruscant, just please, _please_ let him be alive.'_

He didn't know to whom he was pleading, who would be able to answer his desperate prayers. He just knew that, if the opportunity was offered him, he would do anything, give _anything_, to save Obi-Wan's life.

In his mind, Anakin counted off the seconds, fingers pressed hard enough to bruise against Obi-Wan's pale throat. Waiting. Hoping.

_Please. Please…._

Again. Another faint pulse under his fingers, the barest flicker of a heartbeat. Anakin started to laugh, a shaky hysterical sound, tears still streaming down his face. Once started, he could not hold back the hysteria that poured out of him, shaking his entire body with sobbing laughter. Anakin wanted to cheer, to dance and celebrate in the dark cell, but reluctant to let his Master go even for a moment, he kept his eyes locked on Obi-Wan's face as he waited for the next beat under his fingertips.

The polluted Force swirled around him, teasing his mind with images of death and pain, taunting him with its whispers. Anakin shoved the questing tendrils away, focused solely on Obi-Wan. His Obi-Wan.

_There. _

Less than a beat per minute. But it didn't matter, because that tenuous heartbeat meant that Obi-Wan was alive, and as long as he was _alive_, he would be all right. Anakin just had to believe that.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Anakin whispered, leaning forward to mouth the words against Obi-Wan's ear. He didn't know if his Master could hear him, but he sent a burst of comfort into the weakening Force aura that surrounded his Master, willing the unconscious Jedi to know that everything would be all right. "I promise you, Master… I _will_ save you."

Standing, Anakin clutched Obi-Wan's limp form against his chest, his cloak swirling as he Force-called his lightsabre back into his hand. His hand clenched around the hilt for a second, wishing he could drive it through the Sith who had hurt his Master, but deactivated it and returned it to his belt instead. He didn't need the light to see his way out; his panicked heart had finally calmed, just by being with Obi-Wan once again. He had his balance once more, had regained the light in his spirit.

Obi-Wan was alive. And Anakin could do anything with his Master by his side.

Anakin's arms tightened instinctively around his Obi-Wan, one arm curling around the limp form to cradle the Jedi's head against Anakin's shoulder. He breathed in deeply as he stepped out of the compound once again, shielding his Master's face from the harsh sunlight. Closing his eyes and letting out the deep breath slowly, Anakin held Obi-Wan a little tighter, reassuring himself that everything would be all right. They were together again. A team. And they had yet to meet an enemy that could deal with both halves of team Kenobi-Skywalker when they were together.

Striding up the landing ramp, Anakin shot a tight smile at R2, who whistled and bleeped happily at his Master's safe return. But that smile faded instantly as he glanced back at the rough compound, feeling the taint still on his skin, heart burning in anger for the wounded man in his arms.

"Destroy it," he hissed, pushing past the astromech.

* * *

END CHAPTER.

Hope that was worth the wait. I'll warn you in advance that chapter 11 might take awahile, since the school year at uni is ending, and all my teachers are passing out assignments like the world's going to end. (sighs)

Thanks to:

**Liana-chan**: There! More has been written. Not that you read them more than once a month... you still owe me a ton of reviews, you know. (laughs). Thanks for reading.

**Rosalyn Angel: **I'm glad you're getting more and more into the plot! I hope that this chapter continued the trend of "getting even better" since it almost killed me to write it... and that's not even exaggerating! No worries about the later review... better late than never, and it's not as if I update frequently anyways! (laughs)

**toolazytosignin**: I'm not giving anything away about the ending yet! (laughs). It's too far away for me to really think about as yet (but I already do know what's going to happen). Thank you for reading! It's always really good to hear that my work is of good quality. And I'll keep posting as long as you keep reading!

**alchemy dream: **SISTER! I'm glad that you liked the last chapter, and I hope that this one was as good even though Anakin was getting angst all over the place. And Dooku and Palps -- especially Palps -- are swiftly becoming my favourite characters on this fic. Palpsy will play a large role... I think that Dooku is going to be on the back bench from now on though. Glad that you liked it!

**Yellow Jersey Girl**: I guess more than 2 months after the fact isn't updating soon is it? Sorry... I'm writing this one as I go rather than having like 10 chapters all done and polished for posting purposes. I need to try to get ahead of the game after school is done for the summer... (lol). I'm glad tht you like the story!

**Temple Mistress: **Ah twinny... do I even need to say it? You really helped me pull though this chapter, even when I was all pissy and blah. Rewrites SUCK! I think next time we do this at the same time (and what in the hell possessed us to work on rewritng DWY _and_ Chiaro at the same time?) that we both need to be tipsy on MSN. When it's just one of us, things are too lob-sided... (laughs). You rock my world, twinny dear!

**whatever girl**: Thank you very much; I'm glad you like it so far!

**Brynne Eryn: **Another dose of Desperate!Anakin for you. I hope that you like it! And I'm in love with Palpatine now as well, even if he is old and gross. (laughs). Writing him is like tapping into the Dark Side of my personality, and it is just soooo damn fun! I'm glad that his character is enjoyable. And Dooku was fun as well... just not _as_ fun. And the insect Padme... well, that just _might _have been my thoughts coming through Palpsy's monologue. Just maybe...

**DarkGirl5**: I compltely agree with you on the Dooku/Palpatine part. In the ROTS novelization, he's honestly surprised when Palpsy orders Anakin to kill him... poor guy. Dooku was an amazing bad guy; it was too bad that he had such little screen time. I need to try and work out how he can be more involved in this monster of a fic... And btw, digressing in reviews is always cool. I love to read people's thoughts and opinions on characters... some times I take notes for future reference... (laughs) And Anakin has found him, yay! Now the _real_ trouble can begin...

**Monchy: **Yup, another chapter! I love having my computer in my res room so that I can do a happy dance whenever I want (especially when I get an update from you! Yay!). I'm glad that you like my Sithly men, because you already know my absolute adoration of your Palpsy... OMG, I just loooooove that Sith Lord! And you're right; Anakin cant see yet that he's in love with Obi-Wan... but he's getting there.

**Lea Nikkaya: **Does this answer your question? (laughs). I hope that you liked this one as well.

**Alley Parker: **Thank you so much for saying so; I'm always a little anxious about getting the characterizations down pat. I mean, otherwise what's the point of fanfiction? I hope my introduction of Padme went well as well... (laughs)

**Phoenix Red Lion: **Ooooh, it's not over. It's FAR from over. As in I have up to chapter 19 planned out and that won't even be halfway through the story as I have it envisioned so far. I know... it's turning into a monster, isn't it? And yes, I am the angst-master. That's my job! (laughs). I've promised a happy ending for Solstice Night, but I've made no such vow for this story... guess you'll just have to see how it turns out, eh?

**White Destiny: **(points) Look! See? Obi-Wan's still alive for the moment! (no, I tease, lol!). I'm like Palps on this one... killing him off would have meant an abrupt end to the real angstyness. Bwahahaha. And Anakin saved him, so don't worry. I'm not saying any more than that. (laughs). Thanks for reviewing!

See the blue button at the bottom of the screen? Please please please click it? To prove Xtine that the past two months of her life as pertaining to this fic weren't a _complete_ waste? (laughs)

Thanks so much for your patience... I do hope it paid off.

Xtine


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